My skin is dry,
The tears I cry.
My lips are red,
I'm better off dead.

I can't hold on anymore,
I'm ready to walk out the door.
When I try getting up again,
I find myself back on the floor.

Perhapes you would understand
If you saw the blood on my hand.
I don't know what to do,
'cause all I think about is you.

I can't hold on anymore,
I'm always on the floor,
Perhapes some day I will stand
And walk right out the door.

I can't let go, I can't do it.
I can only wait here and sit.
I don't know if I will see you again,
Someday.... wont you rescue me?
Wont you pull me from my despair pit?
I've given up too much to go now,
I want to stand up and say "Ciao!"
It'll never come true
For I love you,
And I suffer... for you.

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Ferinus, in the year 487 AD.