He was just 17 years old, a year for every
second it took his life to end.
He wanted love,or even just a good friend.
Just another bullet, just 50 cents a round,
when it left the chamber, it put his body
in the ground.
It's to late now, his ears unable to hear.
His eye's unable to see the pain of his
A heart that no longer beats it's tune.
Lungs that no longer breathe the sweet
breath of life.
A family standing at his side.
Tears are falling like rain, they can't
all it cost him to die was 50 cents.
It costed his family, a life sadness, and
35 cents a cost of one call may have save
Drowning in a pool of unhappiness, he
could not swim.
Answers they will never know, he died at the
age of 17, never more will he grow.
Suicide is a horrible thing, it ruins lives,
it breaks hearts.
no second chances, no fresh starts.
[This message has been edited by ex-terminator (edited 11-27-1999).]