Final Cut.

Bleeding, not from a wound or a ceremony
But its spilled on the ground and its hard to walk
Pick up the corpses, and wipe this off
Clean shirts are rare to find, why'd you have to ruin it?

The sand is stuck in my toe nail
The prettiness of this beach is immersed in gray
The sun hurts my eyes, and you said we'd stay inside
Take it away, my foot hurts, why'd you have to bring me here?

Take the clothes off. Slow or fast, doesn't matter.
Touch the skin once. Feel it on your fingers
Run them along the contours. No. Not like this.
I was waiting for so long, why do never do it right?

Its dark, lonely, cold and wet. I hate this together.
A finale now, finishing up the fragmented mess
That pretended to be a happy saviour. Say goodbyes.
But the blade was cold too, why is it so hard make the final cut?