Curled up on my own, feeling lost and frightened,
My head hurts with thoughts and fears,
I'm starting to wonder, what should I do?
I think I know the answer,
Let blood be my tears.

I draw on a cigarette,
Send poison to my lungs,
Take a large swig of whiskey, poisoning my blood.
Does this make it easier? What should I do?
I think I know the answer,
Let blood be my tears.

My heart aches and a silent voice screams,
The foetus inside me cries out for help.
All the time I'm thinking, what should I do?
I think I know the answer,
Let blood be my tears.

A tug of willpower,
A wrench of wont,
An internal fight of wrong against right.
My scars show despair,
My scars show my hate,
I find a spare patch of skin,
Let blood be my tears.

The fight is over, the fight is won,
The razor gleams an ironic smile.
The question is answered, the problem is solved.
What will I do?
Let the blood cry my tears.