F.T.W

There ain't to much left to say that I haven't said

Wake up alone, no one asks me to come back to bed

Hard to hack the stress, thankful I've got to rap to vent

The Devil's in my ear saying I'm better moving packs again

In this black room burning green to amber, red

A bad mood and idle hands will make you dance with death

Trying to break out of her grips, but I lack the strength

Reaper said she's coming back for me, she took my man instead

Takes two to do the tango, still it's hard to bare the thought

You're really gone, something nothing could prepare me for

Deep down, I still think it should be me in the ground

But I guess that two's company, three is a crowd