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lyrics

To the Riverside County Sheriff's Department:
No, I do not want the gun my mom used to end her life.
Will you please dispose of it for me?

And to the United States Postal Service:
No, I do not want your letters anymore.
Will you kindly stop writing them?

Because I'm tired and when I met Jesus
at the railroad tracks last week he said to me,
"Get up. You smell of rotting meat and cigarettes
and you're cutting of my air supply, darling. Repent"

I said to him,
"I know. And no,
I will not be the third
generation of suicide
in my family."

So, I'm trying to put away all those temptations and reminders,
but I just wanna run away to Mexico and play a song from my past
on that jukebox of old.

But there is no room for sentimentality here.
And besides isn't vanishing just another
form of suicide?

And I'm so fucking scared.
Will this thread follow me my whole life?
Constantly threatening to weave a noose around my neck?
Will it whisper in my ear?
Will I have the strength to scream?

"You only breathe with my permission,
so remember your place and shut your damn mouth!"

credits

from Hands As Those Of Mice, released January 3, 2014

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