What was it brought you out here in the dark?
Was it your only way of making your mark
Did you get rid of all the voices in your head?
Do you now miss them and the things that they said?
On your own admission you raised up the knife
And you brought it down ending another man's life
When it was done you just threw down the blade
While the red blood spread wider like the anger you made
I don't want this anger that's burning in me
It's something from which it's so hard to be free
But none of the tears that we cry in sorrow or rage
Can make any difference, or turn back the page