I open my eyes,
But I still manage to dream.
And this cold bathroom floor,
Now just feels like home to me.
Well I stumble to the mirror,
And I naturally start to clean.
But my bodys scorned with marks,
I say "These arn't the last lines that I'll see"
"These arn't the last lines that I'll see" knowing that you'll cut again.
But this rope has tied me down,
And the knot keeps tightening.
'Cause I'm just a puppet,
Dangeling from this breaking string.
And maybe I'll turn this blade the other way,
And roll up my sleaves to let the scars show my mistakes.
Shows a person who self-injures who feels they have no control over their life, often this is why people cut, to feel the pain and see the blood, to prove they are real.
I can't breathe,
I'm in need.
Where's my crimson saviour?
No I won't crawl back just to bleed,
Forgive me, I promise I'll stay clean.
Crimson saviour being the blood, often the whole point of cutting is to see the blood, its such a relief and it becomes addictive, each time you do it, you want to see more and more blood.
I open my eyes, But I still manage to dream. And this cold bathroom floor, Now just feels like home to me. Well I stumble to the mirror, And I naturally start to clean. But my bodys scorned with marks, I say "These arn't the last lines that I'll see"
But this rope has tied me down, And the knot keeps tightening. 'Cause I'm just a puppet, Dangeling from this breaking string. And maybe I'll turn this blade the other way, And roll up my sleaves to let the scars show my mistakes.
I can't breathe, I'm in need. Where's my crimson saviour? No I won't crawl back just to bleed, Forgive me, I promise I'll stay clean.