| Picture yourself
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| There, in the snow, turning blue
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| Get used to that being you
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| Picture yourself
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| Blood from the cut on your wrist
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| Checking for veins that you missed
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| Cause suicide is murder
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| You’ve got to have
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| Motive, means, and opportunity
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| Suicide is murder
|
| Pre-meditated, rehearsed tragedy
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| Motive is key
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| Count up the friends who would care
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| If there are none, then you’re there
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| Motive’s a must
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| Shame and self-loathing a plus
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| Tickets for under the bus
|
| Cause suicide is murder
|
| You’ve got to have
|
| Motive, means, and opportunity
|
| Suicide is murder
|
| Pre-meditated, rehearsed tragedy
|
| But beware, cause anyone who knew you
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| Will be cursed, and part of them will also die
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| There’s no end to the asking of the question:
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| Why?
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| So picture yourself
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| What sums up all of your ills?
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| Is it drowning, or bullets, or pills
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| And try to detach
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| You’re throwing the pills down the hatch
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| Or falling where no-one can catch
|
| Cause suicide is murder
|
| You’ve got to have
|
| The stomach for a heartless killing spree
|
| Suicide is murder
|
| Pre-meditated, rehearsed tragedy |