This is not to paint a picture Of some stained glass icon Of suicide, brought home like a hero On the backs of people Who will get up again tomorrow And there will be days when You want to let out the black mucus That's had you blocked for years And there will be days when You want to be welcomed in To somewhere beautiful That you've never been to And it takes a warm rush to get there But then Oscar Wilde hands You an opium pipe And the high lasts forever.
But it didn't happen, and You knew it wasn't going to, And you sat there feeling stupid And you've felt stupid so many times, and I'm so sorry That you'll never figure it out, and I'm going to miss you, but I'm also going to scream in your Frozen face. You took a way out that I'll never take, and We were going fight this together, and You took a way out, and I'll never follow you You were stupid one last time. One time too many. I'll never follow you. I'm smashing all the glass until It's so fine you can't build a monument From it ever again And I'm burning every song you ever wrote Because you won't be a martyr Because I won't let you And no one will hear your voice again Because I can never hear your voice again And I'm so sorry