hemlock tastes good,
i think,
with lemonade and lime.
the flavor,
with vodka,
is also quite sublime.
|
-- and i run to the window,
|
|
and i land with a *thud* as a bloody messy heap --
|
a rope is nice,
or a workshop vice;
but i have it on good authority,
to avoid e-lec-tri-ci-ty.
the line is dead,
that phone won't ring;
it's off the hook,
hitting redial won't help a thing.
|
-- and i run to the window,
|
|
and i land with a *thud* as a bloody messy heap --
|
carbon monoxide,
piles of pills or a droplet of ricin...
or I could just wrap my car 'round a tree...
scratch that last one, actually.
(not "environmentally friendly.")
|
-- and i run to the window,
|
|
and i land with a *thud* as a bloody messy heap --
|
suicide can be fun,
you see,
with just a little cre-a-tiv-i-ty.
why,
should I,
sit around whining "why me?",
when I can deal with life so much more... 'proactively'?
|
-- and i run to the window,
|
|
and i land with a *thud* as a bloody messy heap --
|
"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at!"
sang the (mad) hatter whilst fondling his hat.
he was mad enough (for sure), and soon die would he...
...but mercury salts just aren't for me.
(they're really bad for brain chemistry...)
|
-- and i run to the window,
|
|
and i land with a *thud* as a bloody messy heap --
|
"starlight,
starbright,"
somebody gimmie a clue...
|
i thought i loved you.
(and maybe, just *maybe*, that you loved me too.)
|
-Tom Stowell
Last update: Sunday, June 20, 1999 16:51
