It makes me wonder, on this cold dark night:
Do I have anything left? Any reason to fight?
And I thought real hard, What was I living for?
Since nothing came to mind, I headed for the door.
I'm leaving tis planet, so devoid of life.
Compassion, love: stabbed with a knife.
For better or worse, I pull through.
I know somethings out there, reasons so true.
Living like this, in this perfect hell.
No life left, not a soul to sell.