Music isn't going to save her from herself,
hold the rope away from her neck
isn't going to take the gun from his head,
remind him he is more than nothing.
isn't going to stop the blood from dripping down her arm,
cold and dark but filled with relief,
isn't going to throw away the blades,
convince her it's not worth it,
The melody isn't a rope to climb from the black abyss,
the abyss of the voices in side her head manifesting into a demon,
The notes aren't going to catch him when he falls,
falls into a deep sleep and to their dismay will rest asleep
The lyrics aren't a saviour in the pit of black,
they can't help us when we're scarred and bruised.
Music isn't a saviour,
Isn't a god in which people make it out to be,
It's a soundtrack to sadness..
