With the razor kissed wrists br This is my bright red scream br As I press down harder blood begins to surface br I convince myself 'you don't feel pain, forget it, it's worth it' br You convince yourself that there is no pain br I try to forget br It's just my sick little game br There's white ones, red ones, fresh ones too br I'm ashamed of what I do br As time goes by they get harder to hide br More and more skin with scars on the outside br Hide them with long sleeved shirts, it covers them up but doesn't take away the hurt br It hurts the same when nobody knows; it's just the way it goes br Cut to feel alive, it's something I know is real br It's something I wish I could hide, something I didn't have to feel br When things get too bad it's first instinct to just cut away br Cut away, make some new scars to just get through the day br This time it got out of hand, cut too deep and can hardly stand br Losing way too much blood and I begin to fall br This will be my little secret; I won't say anything at all.