The gun lies there.
Untouched weapon of death.
It's waiting for you,
waiting.

Longing for you to take it,
to take away your breath.
It's waiting for you,
waiting.

Your hand touches it,
but then draws back
It's waiting for you,
waiting.

Your mind is cold,
your heart feels black.
It's waiting for you,
waiting.

What is wrong with you,
can you not see?
That it's waiting for you,
Waiting.

This is not you,
then who can it be?
It's waiting for you,
waiting.

The spirit of death,
his hand closing in.
It's waiting for you,
waiting.

Personal destruction,
a darkest sin.
It's waiting for you,
waiting.

The storm is over,
the thought has passed.
But it's waiting for you,
waiting, again.