No one can see the pain that we hide,
They're happy for us to keep it inside.
Our fear is our own, they dont want to know...
Why should we envolve them, why should we show?
You live your hole life in confusion and fear,
The need to feel something unbearably near...
Half of you living...half of you gone...
And inside you know what you're doing is wrong.
The thing that can help, the thing that may heal,
Are the flame or the blade, and the sting of the steel.
The destruction of skin means the death of your soul,
But there's nowhere to run when you're living alone.
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