I almost left. My bags were packed. Ready to go at any moment.
Maybe i was tired of it all. Maybe i needed to start over.
Blood flows down my arm. Tears flowed down my face.
My head was pounding. What was stopping me?
No where to go? No money? Only two years left?
Each time i said I'd leave the next time. No one believed me.
But I'll tell you one day you'll wake up and I'll be gone.
No more innocence but just pure animosity.
Someone told me that running away wouldn't solve a thing.
I think about it now; what wouldn't it solve?
One of these days you'll be sorry you drove me away.