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Description
It's amazing how many people are suicidal these days,
Like the latest fad or craze.
But if they died,
I mean really died,
Could they face their creator?
Could they look them in the eye and say they had nothing left to live for?

I can hear their protests,
I can hear their pleas,
Over and over they resound in my head.
"What about me?
Where was my creator when my family fell apart?
When my lover stopped caring?
When everyone hated me?"
Why would the creator create you,
If it didn't love you,
For a split second absolutely love you?

The things it loves are dying off now,
Killing themselves and others without shame.
Blaming it- their creator- because the creator should be ashamed,
And it is.
Maybe it should lock itself in a closet,
So it can cry alone for ten thousand years,
Because it failed us.
It didn't create our dreams and destroy our fears,
"Where is my pony palace?"
Let it obey our whim or die trying!
But it can't die, it can't hide in a closet.
It can lock the gates to eternal bliss,
Send us all to hell with a single dismiss,
When we kill ourselves aren't we damning ourselves to this?

Is hell better then our mortal lives,
Is there anything we'd miss?
So before you kill yourself-
Think of the golden rule,
Turn on it, it will turn on you.

Description
It's amazing how many people are suicidal these days,
Like the latest fad or craze.
But if they died,
I mean really died,
Could they face their creator?
Could they look them in the eye and say they had nothing left to live for?

I can hear their protests,
I can hear their pleas,
Over and over they resound in my head.
"What about me?
Where was my creator when my family fell apart?
When my lover stopped caring?
When everyone hated me?"
Why would the creator create you,
If it didn't love you,
For a split second absolutely love you?

The things it loves are dying off now,
Killing themselves and others without shame.
Blaming it- their creator- because the creator should be ashamed,
And it is.
Maybe it should lock itself in a closet,
So it can cry alone for ten thousand years,
Because it failed us.
It didn't create our dreams and destroy our fears,
"Where is my pony palace?"
Let it obey our whim or die trying!
But it can't die, it can't hide in a closet.
It can lock the gates to eternal bliss,
Send us all to hell with a single dismiss,
When we kill ourselves aren't we damning ourselves to this?

Is hell better then our mortal lives,
Is there anything we'd miss?
So before you kill yourself-
Think of the golden rule,
Turn on it, it will turn on you.