I’ve already done my ten-thousand hours
Under the light of the moon and the sun.
”Self-made” contains its own divine power
In the minds of the Americana.

My bootstraps, I’ve pulled
Until they tore off.
I admit, I’ve been fooled
In this Land of the Lost.

And still yet they shout, at Forefather’s behest:
“Give it your all! And then give me the rest!”

I have proverbial boot straps
And I pull them everyday
They bundle tight the kitchen knives
And keep the guns at bay

But there will be a time
I mean there's gonna be a day
Where I let loose these imaginary shoestrings
And take my life away

And you may think don't go
You might even yell please stay
This is not a game of wills
I have no cards left to play

Do not conflate my mental illness
With my willingness to stay
This world and you were beautiful
Come what may