well the last relationship ship fucked me up,
find it hard to talk find it hard to trust,
looking to the floor and then looking back up,
looking at my wrists whats the best way to cut?,
should i do it or should i call my mum,
she got enough to think she got bigger problum,
theres no one here apart from me and the cans,
been drinkin so much alcohol seepin from pores in me hands,
im really depressed so pissed worn out and fucked off,
trying to figure out where it went wrong and got lost,
was it the job, my mums tumour or relationship bust,
down the lager throw the can in pile, gotta end this I must,
looking to the floor then looking back up,
looking at my wrists whats the best to cut,

sitting here i realise no ones got my back,
bitch fucked off, job lost, mums tumour attack,
their all gone im left with nothing but greif and that,
should i just end it I'd bet they'd laugh,
ill show the fuckers! consiounce says don't be daft,
but they don't care stub my fag on the mat,
i've never been this low, where'd it all disapear to no!,
then on come westwood on radio,
some hot shit playing makes my head move and feet tap,
this shit makes me feel good maybe it aint all bad,
i can feel a smile form on my face and goosebumps on back,
mobile phone distubance thru speakers then txt alert crap,
gota change my ringtone, jayzee tone is wack,
flip open fone its a text from timmy chap,
going for a pint then clubbin you going?,
reply yes, send message my face is glowin,
see nothing is worh dying for you got your own back to watch,
thats why i enjoying life now, i just reach out and touch..............

think bout it