I want you to promise,
That you won't cry.
You have to understand,
That I need to be free.

Because now I have the strength,
I'm not afraid of death.
Or what comes next,
When I take my last breath.

I'm ready to be given,
To heaven or to hell.
Maybe then you'll see the truth,
In the stories that I tell.

To let go would be so easy,
With the help of a knife.
Then my wrists would tell the stories,
Of the problems in my life.