Closed cuts that are hidden on my wrists.
The holes in the walls of my life are made by my own fists.
My anger is out of controle,
It's as if the devil inside has began to take its toll.

A simple slice,
It's like rolling death's dice.
Never cut to deep,
Or it might but you in eternal sleep.

You might think your own death is the greatest thing you have ever planned,
But you should remember you will be forever damned.
So think about it all over again.
I bet you can make amends.

I am told these things, and I constantly try to remind myself of these simple things,
But death is always whispering in my ears, while the reaper near by sings.
Where is the angel I use to hear?
Was it finally defeated by all of my fears?

I enjoy the feeling of warm blood on my skin.
It is like my life has run into a dead end.
The evil inside of me is taking controle,
And the devil might as well be collecting my soul.

Each cut leaves a scar,
But the names hurt worse by far.
Like I said my life is at a dead end.
There is no longer anyone left that I can't call my "friend".

Death is the only thing I can hear now.
It is a deadly and yet beautiful sound.
Here comes the final stop,
Watch my heart stop, and to the ground my dead body will drop.