I stand on the precipice between death and life,
A thin line like the edge of a knife.
Obscuring my vision with fog and fear;
Cold wind strips me of all so dear.
Which way I turn, which path I take,
Leaves me waist-deep in a murky lake.
Where are you, when your name I call,
My voice echoing off the wall?
All I seek is warmth and light,
But you are nowhere in my sight.
Those promises, do they mean nothing?
Empty words that leave me stumbling
Through the tears, through the pain,
Through the endless pouring rain.
One last thought, as I lie torn and folorn:
Will you remember me when I am gone?
