• Drip,
    Drip,
    Drip,

    The sticky crimson,
    Rolls down his cheek,
    Out of the prison,
    After reaching his peak,

    Drip,
    Drip,
    Drip,


    A small puddle encircles his feet,
    While he stands with the knife,
    Smiling at it like a treat,
    As he fleets from life,

    Drip,
    Drip,
    Drip,

    Perhaps his insanity,
    Would have been healed,
    If it were not for the profanity,
    That abused him and broke the seal,

    Drip,
    Drip,
    Drip,

    Then again he was just insane,
    And had nothing to live for,
    Just a dead end lane,
    That held no hope for being adore',

    Drip,
    Drip,
    Drip,

    But unlike most that discriminated,
    Because of the label doctors gave him,
    I for one feel obligated,
    Due to the fact that he was out on a limb,
    And was simply,
    Human.