It's eleven fifty-two
And I'm stepping over you
Because you're in the other room with slit wrists adorned

I can't believe she told you
When we promised not
She broke her promise
You should never break your promise

Oh no, what a mess
My carpeting is crimson red
How do I clean a stain
That was left right here by your vein

Police are at the door
They're gonna think it was me
Why did he use my knife
I better take that knife

Because I've got to get away
Back door is my escape
They won't find me with crimson hands

Don't you know I'm the man
And I don't need to wash my hands

It was her who made my brother cut his wrists