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Hurts so bad that you know it's not sinning. |
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The funny thing is it's just beginning to feel good. |
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And downstairs all your friends are waiting, |
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They're talking low and filling their stories with angels, |
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And they imagine intervening in true crime photos and placing meaning within them - |
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From blue to red to black-and-white. |
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Don't look too long, you'll be up all night among them, |
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The sudden dead. The last thing he said was "You should have been here before the camera arrived, |
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Maybe I wouldn't have to die. |
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But just live out this long life jangling, and as old men you could watch my hand dangling, cold and white." |
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Baby, don't worry tonight; |
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I know it's too ugly to hold yourself upright. |
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So fill a clean glass, cold and smooth. Take the reds, then take the blues. |
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Away, you can hear a voice that's singing |
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"Angels could come but you wouldn't believe them, and those that believe still can't see them anyway." |
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And The Suicide slides out of his skin and he climbs inside of the bed you're in and touches your face. |
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He says "what right had I to die when all these little cells just tried to keep me alive? |
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What right had I to leave the human race behind? |
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Do you really think you're better, with your shotgun and your suicide letter? |
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Do you think you're right? |
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Well baby, don't worry tonight, |
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I know it's too ugly to hold yourself upright. |
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There's a light from the front room as it's filling with all of your friends. |
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It doesn't get much better than this, and then it ends." |
