Suicide.

You can wipe the blood from your shoes and the tear from your eye... but the scars on your arms, well, they're harder to hide.

Drawing on a cigarette, hoping your head will clear, is like rubbing on a lamp untill a genie appears.

And the last time you counted you were twenty three. But you still don't know who you want to be. And all of your heroes took their own lives.

Do yourself a favour and take my advice.

Oh you want to tell your story but you don't know where to start. Well, your mother's pretty lonely but she don't have a heart. And you met the rich and famous and they're screwed up the same.

Even "love will tear us apart" don't ease the pain.