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 right off sixth street drawing new lines to cross... loneliness breaks complete silence as terror runs down his spine... the feelings all to familiar, he has built more faith in the rope around his neck than he holds in her... and the only reason he stand cold sweat upon that chair is to give her, to give you one last chance... the flowers are dead and god, I'm slowly slipping... a useless charm is broken and solitude soars... when we have no longer to live, these slices wrists hurt less than this wounded heart... this heart, its killing me... and when life is not suffice, dying amends... and he will never be your partner because he will habe killed himself by the time you come around (I will have killed mysel