The Art of Suicide

The art of suicide
Nightgowns and hair
Curls flying every which where
The pain too pure to hide
Bridges of Sighs
Meant to conceal lover’s lies
Under the arches
Of moonlight and sky
Suddenly easy
To contemplate why
Why…
Why live a life
That’s painted with pity
And sadness and strife
Why dream a dream
That’s tainted with trouble
And less than it seems
Why bother bothering
Just for a poem
Or another sad song to sing
Why live a life
Why live a life
The art of suicide
Pretty and clean
Convey’s a theatrical scene
«Alas, I’m gone!» she cried
Ankles displayed
Melodramatically laid
Under the arches
Of moonlight and sky
Suddenly easy
To contemplate why
Why…
Why live a life
That’s painted with pity
And sadness and strife
Why dream a dream
That’s tainted with trouble
And less than it seems
Why bother bothering
Just for a poem
Or another sad song to sing
Why live a life
Why live a life
Life is not like Gloomy Sunday
With a second ending
When the people are disturbed
Well they should be disturbed
Because there’s a story
That ought to be heard
Life is not like Gloomy Sunday
With a second ending
When the people are disturbed
Well they should be disturbed
Because there’s a lesson
That really ought to be learned
The world is full of poets
We don’t need anymore
The world is full of singers
We don’t need anymore
The world is full of lovers
We don’t need anymore…