Sitting at my 
window, I was watching
the stars; Waiting for the moon to go
down, For the sun to
rise; To the eyes
those were red, To the lips
those were
pale, To the wrist
that was
bleeding, To the bed that got wet, To the calm and restless wind, To the tomorrow without me, My heart could
only answer
that Hope is a funny thing. It was time to
stop my painful nights, Time to forget
all that
happened; But one last I
could remember
them all, One last time
before I
vanish; The deeper my
memories run, The deeper I
remember the
cuts; From that
misery, I have
brought To the people I made suffer; From the
stranger who
laid a hand on
me To the lovers
who are nothing but err; From the
friends who
called if need
be To the amigos
who stood by
me; From the
toxicity which
surrounded me To the
vengeance I
have spread; From the glory
that I carried To the pain
that is
clouded; The gifts of
destiny are
dangerous More mysterious than we expect; I destroyed
myself not
knowing that Hope is a funny thing. I am just as
pathetic as any other human, Just as cruel
as any other
slaughterer; Today I stand
between my life and death, Hoping for
forgiveness to
come to me, Good fortune to strike; But I have
lived enough to know That good
riddance is
more than good; Waiting for my
veins to drain As I now know
that Hope is a
funny thing.