In a pool of blood,
I'm lying face-down.
And If I'm lucky, maybe I'll drown.

The pain you gave me
is more than I can bear.
And I can still taste
that lipstick you wear.

I still see the ghost
of your face.
Maybe this blood and lipstick's
the last thing I'll taste.

I still hear the beating
of your frozen heart
I gave you my love,
and you tore it apart.

I saw you there,
waiting in the dark,
and like a moth to a flame,
my eyes went stark.

My feeble lifeline
wavers by the minute.
It's all your fault.
Tragic, innit?

Maybe the rope
would be a comfortbale snuff.
The way I see it,
I'm in pain enough.

Or maybe a razor
would be right on the money.
If you can't tell,
you did a number on me, honey.

So here I am,
bathing in my blood.
Turns out being the nice guy
never did me any good.