[Verse 1: Dylan Ross]
See, it's not that I don't have the guts to do it
It's that I'm broke and I won't bring myself to go to Walmart to buy the gun and bullet
I'm trying to go out like my cousin Manny dumb and foolish
With a shotgun to my face to rearrange it when I pull it
I want my family to discover me a couple hours later with my cranium practically decapitated
I'm gonna tape a note to the door to warn them in advance that right after I stained the comforter I shit my pants
And on the other side A list of demands I could have easily obtain if it wasn't for the simplest fact
Agoraphobia something I've struggled with ever since I was little and could only briefly get over the hurdle
Never classy, only low or middle
With no escape from the mental rape that I deal with on a daily basis
My uncle Jim knows too, cause he took himself out before I was even born so I guess it just runs in the family
And I can't even think about anything more manly than putting a barrel in your mouth and pulling the trigger gladly
If I was anyone other than who I am I would understand it's a waste to not find the humor in tragedy
All about depravity and honestlessness and you can exploit the death like friends of Eurynomos did
No emotions or empathy as my heart is solid as a brick but overcrowded like this metropolitan is
Fuck a job and a bitch I don't think I'm strong enough
Or I wasn't build for this, or I haven't done it long enough
Or I don't even wanna do it, screw it
At least if I did it, it would give someone a part time remodeling gig
I'm an obvious pig, sexual pervert who's better off alone than mistreating someone who doesn't deserve it
High school dropout
I'm gonna dig in my throat with the pair of scissors and let my tricchia pop out
As long as it doesn't involve any type of medication
I'm onto it, I'd rather try to hang myself again
In 2005 I did a number on my arm with a utility knife that only caused minor bodily harm
One in the chamber, 30 seconds to lift off
I want it to be so bloody I'll have to seal my suicide note in a zip lock
I have another one on my arm that I have to put a bandage on for any sort of public function
Junction junction
I have this fantasy of putting my head on the train tracks to make it explode just like a pumpkin
Fuck it, what's the point of changing the way you think about your surroundings if it's something you'll always be stuck with
Breathing in massive amounts of gas out of the oven so I can follow the path of Sylvia Plath in 63
Ever since I could remember life was a joke
I even tried to hang myself but I was too fat so I broke the rope