Cut

It's for the pain, the blood, the hate.

How can something so bad feel so great?

Some are addicted to beer and cocaine,

I myself am addicted to the pain.

Don't need a friend or a stranger,

Tell me not of the present danger.

Pretend not to care for me, I'll be fine,

And then I will go when death's turn is mine.

Tell me its sick, tell me its wrong,

When my fresh scars sing agony's song.

For once addicted its so hard to stop,

But blood gets me a high nothing can top.

And then I will go when death's turn is mine . . .