all ive done, im not too proud of.
i pick up a gun, and think of my last love.
im a trigger away, from my untimely death.
i look down at the clay, and i hold my breathe.

before i end my life, i think of the day.
we couldve ended this strife, and all she had to say,
was that she loved me, and we couldve held strong.
for we were ment to be, and i know im not wrong.

my life still goes on, and we continue to talk.
its the begining of dawn, and weve gone for a walk.
but why that every night, our conversations are less vast.
and everytime we fight, i lose myself in the past.