I think I became addicted,
To the scratching on my skin.
And how that skin turns pink and white,
When the sharpest edge digs in.
I think I became addicted,
To the sight of my own blood.
And no matter how deep I go,
It’s never deep enough.
I think I became addicted,
To the feeling of the slice.
When the knife slides back and forth,
Oh how I hate that knife.
I think I became addicted,
To the feel...
