I'm going to kill myself. I don't know how yet, I don't know when, but my demise will be my hands.
Could be today, could be tomorrow, I haven't decided yet, but one day my hands will be my end.
These hands that have created life will take one away like sweet poetry.
Like the symphony of my life, a sad never ending tune, these hands that have been creating an orchestra will finally have a rest.
It's part of the game I've created, everyone will live in fear waiting for the day I don't.
One day, I'm certain of it, my hands will finally kill me.
