Blood On My Hands

by Noise Pollution

It took her a month

To really receive

The letters I sent

One soul in a sea

Of souls

And I rocked the boat

She swore it would float

But it didn’t float

And now I know

Your Honor, you see

This blood on my hands

I’ve got this disease

And it has its demands

Oh it’s not a disease!

I’ve got plenty, you see

Plenty of brains

And plenty of heart

I’m healthy, you see

I’m right in my head!

She just couldn’t be

What she always said

We’re both better off dead

So don’t call it a disease!

I’m just not depressed

I’m only upset

And a little obsessed

So this blood on my hands

I wish it were hers

Your Honor you can’t

Blame me for bein’ hurt.

It’s a mark on my belt

It’s a scar on my hands

This red stripe on my wrists

You have to understand

So Your Honor where are you?

Why do I defend

Myself from myself

The end from the end.