17th Birthday

Day number six thousand, two hundred and five Hour number one hundred and forty eight thousand, nine hundred and two. No reason to breathe or try to stay alive Seventeen years, and all I can think of is you All of the secrets that you have supressed in your past Are slowly but surely revealing themselves today Do your lies make you wonder which day will be my last For now there is reason for me not to stay I grope for answers but they push me aside Shoveling mysteries into my brain Another day passes and I still haven't died God's torture insane He's toying with my precious heart Giving more reason to die than live It will be my own doing to part And God is not one to forgive In confusion and anger, I will plunge to my death But it will be a tale that I will live to tell. For while everyone's talking about my last breath, I will be living in hell. Maybe you'll laugh, or maybe you'll care One things for sure... I'll see you there. Would I cry if one put you out of my sight? That's the question we'll answer tonight.