History is repeating, faster my heart is beating. It feels worse than before, let the bottle hit the floor. What else is there for me to do, but worry so much about you? Just another night, in constant fright. Why do I even try, so hard not to cry? Quit slamming the door, it makes it hurt that much more. Your eyes are sore and red, just like my bed. Full or blood that spilled, my wrists are thrilled.