Lyrics You Did It - Necro

You Did It

«Ayatollah's in Iran, Russians in Afghanistan
Wheel of Fortune, Sally Ride, heavy metal, suicide.»
You wanna die intentionally
Due to your masochist nature
You’re impatient;
death comes eventually
But you want instant gratification
Suicide’s been attempted;
you’re not alive if you meant it
And if you survive you’ll be labeled demented
And sent to somewhere expensive
Where they’ll keep you stable with narcotics
Strapped to a table in a place full of psychotics
Locked in a rubber room unable to bash your skull
Or hang yourself with a cable
It’s ironic like a fable
Depression has infected you, you’re under the impression
It’s best to put a TEC to your neck
And apply pressure to the trigger mechanism
Now you figure it’s less of a prison on the other side
Once you’ve died you can’t come back if it isn’t
The unknown, the afterlife and where we go after we die
To find out before it’s your time, you’d have to sacrifice
Like Japanese pilots did for their cause
Believing there’s something beautiful to balance the violent shit
You did it!
(Son, you did it!)
You put the gun into your mouth and blasted yourself
And that’s it, kid
You can’t come back
You regret it, but you’re deaded
You committed a suicide and your whole head is shredded
Drink your cyanide, choose a beverage
Use a rod to tighten the loop of rope around your neck
Just use some leverage
Asphyxiation, brain hemorrhage
Chopped in half by a bandsaw
Take a second from life to stop and laugh
I can’t imagine the pain you feel
You’re not a coward;
you’re brave
You allowed your head to be decapitated by a train wheel
Razor to the throat, methamphetamine ducts
Suicide epilogue, end of scene: cut!
You can jump in front of a truck and be a corpse in the street
And try to go out dramatically like Natalie Portman in 'Heat'
Seven days underwater at twenty degrees Celsius
Overdosage of barbiturates taking a shit, like Elvis
Found in your underwear with a gun in your hand
And a suicide note next to you, hoping we’d understand
If you’ve got a problem, suicide will solve it
Check out the hook;
Budd Dwyer with a revolver
Crowd: «Budd, no, please, please!
Don’t shoot it!
Don’t shoot it!»
Dwyer: «Stay back, don’t, don’t!
This will hurt someone!»
(Gunshot)
Crowd: «No, oh my fucking god!
Oh my god!
Oh, shit, no!»
Crowd: «Alright, settle down!
Don’t panic, don’t panic.
Someone call a doctor!
Somebody call an ambulance, a doctor, and the police!»