You play the song of a dying man,
who wasn't there to make a stand.
He lives quietly in your shallow breath,
with the razer in bed you ponder on death.

Having a suicidal disposition,
leaving me in remonition.
Burning the thoughts within our souls,
in my black skies of grey no one knows.

Try to run you can't escape,
for death has always known your fate.
Why think of death when there is life,
forgetting this lesson you grab the knife.

What wild emotions will drive us mad,
going in and out like an everlasting fad.
Looking deep into the shiny black barrel,
pull the trigger of sparks of peril.

Reach for the bottle of white, blue and red,
take these pills and soon you are dead.
Find life long silver rope,
turn it into a noose, fall and choke.

The song of a dying man keeps on playing,
the thought of death is always staying.
Here in my world dont be afraid,
here in this world of black skies of grey.