fetish

I've got a thing for razor blades I call it a fetish
some say im a basket case because i have a death wish
every morning when i wake i eat medicine for breakfast
cuz memories of a past flame have left me bruised and wreckless
theres blood on my razors and rust in my wrists
welts on my mind from the last time that we kissed
I strike a vein daily in the name of Bailey
shes the one who made me this fucking crazy
I still ask myself why? what happened? what went wrong?
I must have been too weak when I needed to be strong
forced to move on with a smile that was fake
if i admit i need help then my weakness is displayed
but these long sleeves will soon be trimmed
and my futures looking dim
its a war that I cant win without my medicine
my mind is a graveyard that haunts my skeleton
these razor scars are prison bars I've carved into my skin