Walk up the street
and put a bullet in my brain,
right there, bang.
This is what we wanted!
Look at the excitement.
This is what we wanted.
See how it jumps up that barrel?
See how it pops and clicks?
Look at the excitement,
It's all for kicks. We're all for kicks.
A wonderful experience.
Splitting hairs into my left temporal lobe,
pushing through the dermis, squeezing
through the skull --oh, that tingles a little,
I must admit--
before finally sticking to
my primary auditory cortex.
My oh my, what a finish.
Anticlimactic, just as I deserve.
Appears that there is an
irony in everything I do.
I finally don't have to hear it anymore,
there's a bullet blocking me. Over and
over, but no more. No longer able to
hear you say those things you said
and my body collapses on the corner
where you told me you wanted me to die.
And I told you that what you were
would not happen again.
One promise I will keep.