Once I shot myself,
once I shot myself,
and I bled and cried and die,
and wondered why-ed.
Living with the pain
of she not loving me
was just to much to bare.
I can live with this hole in head,
and
I can live with this hole in foot,
but I can not live with
this hole in heart
as I pointlessly exist.
Take my ashes
to a place far away,
the last place I did live,
for my cold dead empty heart
has nothing left to give.
