Oct 03, 2006 06:49
happiness is just a gash away
when i open a familiar scar
pain goes shooting like a star
comfort hasn't failed to follow so far...
and you might say it's self-indulgent
you might say its self-destructive
but, you see, it's more productive
than if i were to be healthy
& pens and penknives take the blame
crane my neck & scratch my name
but the ugly marks
are worth the momentary gain...
when i jab a sharpened object in
choirs of angels seem to sing
hymns of hate in memorandum
and you might say it's self-indulgent
and you might say it's self-destructive
but, you see, it's more productive
than if i were to be happy
and sappy songs about sex and cheating
bland accounts of two lovers meeting
make me want to give mankind a beating
and you might say it's self-destructive
but, you see, i'd kick the bucket
sixty times before i'd kick the habit
and as the skin rips off i cherish the revolting thought
that even if i quit
there's not a chance in hell i'd stop
and anyone can see the signs
mittens in the summertime
thank you for your pity, you are too kind