A Holiday With Worms In My Ear

Suicide is a tidal wave of tabboo
But I do not mind
How about you
There are pros and cons to every sin
Otherwise no money would be given to heroin
I could put a gun to my head
But who would hear my final words said
Why don't I get pissed
Slit my wrists
And leave a note
I have the rest of my life
To think of an awsome quote
But I might make a typo
The knife may not be sharp enough
I could jump off a building
But the gravel seems rough
I got the reasons to pack my bags
And give a middle finger to planet earth
But the idea of being in the dirt
Has me ill prepared and scared
My lips do not know how to curve
But I know what the bitches and bastrards
Of this world deserve
I need a holiday with worms in my ear
Fuck all that was
Fuck all that will ever be
I guess I am stuck here
Happy mother fucking birthday to me
I will try again next year