Why should I live when dying is easier?

This gun in my hand strikes no emotions

But the thought of the pain and my friends crying causes me to rethink

Trust me, if pain wasn't so certain and my friends' hearts wouldn't be so broken

the bullet would've been in my head long before

But I know there would be so much mess left after

that a quick departure is impossible

For I know now that I must hang on

I must grin and bear it or I'll lose it

My fingers itch for that cold steel

But inside I know I might as well return the express ticket

For it is not my time yet So I guess I'll just grin and bear it

There's still many years left before my plane is set to take off.

70 years or so, of just grinning and bearing it,

while inside I'm falling apart,

counting down to my E.T.D.,

because the finely polished steel beckons to me

But I must turn away for the thought of the pain and tears