Just give me a suitcase and I’ll promise to not look back.
Just point me, point me towards the railroad track.
I’ve been staring at the gates, but I’ve never found a crack,
so I’m just looking up, saying, “Deliver me a heart attack.”
If you’re weary, I don’t mind sharing the load,
just keep me some company on the road.
All I’ve got is a bottle that I ought to leave alone,
but it’s the only thing that I can call my own.
So I’m saying goodbye, and no, I won’t forget to write.
It’s just been too long racing towards a yellow light,
and I know that I say this every night,
but I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired of life.
And if things should not get better, will you wait for me to change,
or will I see you waving goodbye from the window of an aeroplane?
If I told you it was hopeless, would you try to understand,
or will you leave me for a palm tree and its shadows on the sand?
Because I’ve been waiting all year for the temperature to drop,
but now I’ve got a fever and I don’t know how to make it stop.
There’s still one shoe that hasn’t dropped yet.
It’s hanging on by an aglet.
This world seems like a nice place to visit,
but I don’t want to live in it.
There is not a doctor that can diagnose me.
I am dying slowly from Patrick Stickles Disease.
There is not a medication that can cure what’s ailing me.
The only treatment they offer is to hang me from a tree.
Life’s been a long, sick game of “Would You Rather”,
so now I’m going to medical school – as a cadaver.
Now if I could say only one thing with the whole world listening, it would be,
“Leave me the fuck alone.
Or welcome to the Terrordome.”