Turning The Gun On Myself

The morning is bright as Rapper’s Delight
Floats up to my room from the street
And who would disturb my slumbering world
With this late '70's beat
I’m taking my aim from this window pane
Then I’m turning the gun on myself
The Upper West Side is supposed to be quiet,
It’s supposed to be wealthy and dull
So how to explain this thundering pain that’s
Pushing it’s way through my skull
I’m taking a leave of my senses, Wee Hee!
Then I’m turning the gun on myself
New York is loud, it’s wonderfully loud.
I wouldn’t live anywhere else
But I need my rest to be at my best,
Away from the high decibels
I’m losing my will, I’m shooting to kill,
Then I’m turning the gun on myself
I’m losing my will and I’m shooting to kill,
Then I’m turning the gun on myself