That killing thing

I give you the rifle, packed with bullets
And I stand across from you as a target
Oh the thrill of knowing you'd never shoot.
I give you a knife and I hold you tight
The joy I find in knowing you'd never stab.
I've given you a dose of poison
And I pass you my drink
What serenity to sip out of it and quench more than my thirst
I'm quenching my ego, I'm feeding my pride
I give you the weapons, I give you the power
And you're making a decision every hour.
There's only one person who will be hurt by the end of this.
And no amount of morphine will numb it.
I'm crazy, I'm losing it, I'm giving it up
All to you, do what you have to.