(chorus)
To die, or not to die,
is now the question.

For some it is noble
to toy with the arrows
and slings of our day. 
Death is not noble,
but rather madness,
preached by a demented few.

The arrows shoot straight
through the heart,
but rarely to the heart
of the matter;
which we try to avoid,
whenever we can,
but will persist I know,
until we are dead.

The slings of the mind
hurl only hate,
which make them
more like a crutch
on which to lean
when times are tough;
for blame is easier,
than accepting the truth.

(chorus)

The world seems doomed
by these slings and arrows,
but they alone
are not at fault.
it's the ones who
aim the arrows
that I loathe,
for they're too weak
to loose their grip
on those strings of power.

Is it so tough
to talk to each other;
To put on the safety,
and ignore our pride?
It seems we would
rather end the world
than live to see another day.

(chorus)