he's drinking alone again and man he's always thinking of a way to change... man something's got to change... its truckin' on midnight and I sit...i sit right off sixth street, drawing new lines..new lines to cross...loneliness breaks complete silence, as terror runs down his spine... the feelings all to familiar, he's built more faith in the rope around his neck than he holds in her... and the only reason he stands cold sweat upon that chair is to give you, to give you one last chance... the flowers are dead and, I'm slowly slipping... a useless charm is broken and solitude soars... when we..when we.. have no longer to live.. these sliced wrists..hurt less than this... wounded heart...this heart, is killing me... and when life is not suffice, dying amends... and he will never be your partner because he will have killed himself by the time you come..come around (I will have killed myself)