Why do you pick?
Pick at my soul?
And then have the audacity to ask why I'm not whole?
You tear at my heart
You fill me with lies
I can never be to sure
Which is my demise
I cannot rest
I cannot sleep
For you have cut me
Much to deep
Your knife has now plunged
Into the depths of me
And as I take my last breath
I still, quite a lot
Holding on to the knife
And wondering what is your plot?
So with my last breath
I pitch slightly forward
And whisper to his soul
You can tear me no more
I won't let you at last
But indeed I can say
This moment came to fast
