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My Daddy called me on a |
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Friday morning |
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So sad to tell me just what you've done |
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You tried so hard to make us all hate you |
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But in the end you was the only one |
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Sick, tired, pissed and wired |
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You never thought about anyone else |
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You tried in vain to find something to kill you |
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In the end you had to do it yourself |
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Who's to blame for the loveless marriage |
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Who's to blame for the broken band |
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You ran from life and all of it's pleasures |
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Your own teeth marks on your own damned hand |
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Thrown out before the date expired |
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You rather die than let anyone help |
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You rather die than take a stab at living |
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Nothing would kill you so you do it yourself |
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Everyone has those times when the night's so long |
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The dead-end life just drags you down |
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You lean back under the microphone |
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And turn your demons into walls of goddamned noise and sound |
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And it's a sorry thing to do to your sweet sister |
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It's a sorry thing to do to your little boy |
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It's a sorry thing to do to the folks who love you |
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Your Mama and |
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Daddy lost their only boy |
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Some should say |
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I should cut you slack |
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But you worked so hard at unhappiness |
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Living too hard just couldn't kill you |
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In the end you had to do it yourself |
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Living too hard just couldn't kill you |
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In the end you had to do it yourself |
