The butterflies will soon turn to ashes, to just an empty feeling inside,
You stare in the mirror.
"Take the blade," he whispers.
"do it, just one cut. No one's stopping you."
One cut, two.
The devil starts to smile.
Do they see the pain in my eyes?
It's all in yout head, it isn't real.
The scars though, they don't seem to heal.
Each one tells a story, they say.
But what if you already know the ending? Why not just jump ahead?
He took a bullet to the head, it replays in your mind.
You wear too much makeup, what are you trying to hide?
Let's be honest.
You could've stopped him.
But you were just so full of yourself, you couldn't stop crying about your own damn problems.
If you would've just stopped, you could've saved him.
He would've lived.
He would be here today,
bragging about the football game.
Trying to figure out how to ask the girl of his dreams to homecoming.
It could've been you...
to have saved him.
But you didn't,
he's gone now.
He's saved you thousands of times, and you couldn't save him once.
It shouldn't have been him, it should've been you.
He had a plan, with a future. You're just a screw-up, going nowhere.
You're the first born, not a son, but a daughter- a mistake.
You go to the bathroom, you break down and cry.
Your guardian angel is weeping right by your side.
"He wouldn't have wanted this, you keep that in mind. Keep him in your heart.
He's not far behind."