Tick, tock, the clock is ticking.
It's 11 PM and I am alone, I lie in bed
trying to cope. I know it is unfair to be
feeling this way. The world is not mine,
I am selfish to believe it could actually
care.
Tick, tock, the clock is still going.
It is 12 AM and the blood in my veins
still flows. Just hearing your name
makes it run cold. You made me this
way, you knew how I would turn
out, you let it happen, there was no
regret.
Tick, tock, my time is running out.
It is 1 AM and I dig up my blade who is
looking for it's home.
It's home is my skin, my blood it's
cause. It is calling my name, a fresh
unpainted canvas calling to the artist
who makes it become alive.
Tick, tock, my time has run out.
It is 2 AM and the lonely little girl had
finally found a friend. Her death was no
big deal to her but impacted a few, the
little girl was selfish, come on,
even she knew.
