i contemplate suicide every day
it don't mean i'm sad
i'm just wired that way
neither cowardice nor courage keep me alive
strikes me discourteous
to cut in the line
the happiest friend i could call on was home
beloved and kind
he was healthy and strong
deliberate sensitive father and friend
he left a long letter
it sounded like him
if i could sum it up in five words
he said everyone's fighting a hard battle
everyone alive hurts
it's the first noble truth of the buddha
i talked to home on the phone in the fall
i knew at the time it was a special phone call
i was giving up on music and torching my lie
home understood it and offered advice
he said you should keep writing
but you should do it for yourself
so honest and cutting
it's like a fuck you for everybody else
sometimes i feel like i know what he meant
last time i spoke with my happiest friend
my least happy friend is doin a hundred year sentence
thirty-six down
it's starting to look like they meant it
there's a lot of old timers dying these days
they've all got a number
they've all got a face
everybody suffers
it doesn't lessen the profundity of pain
we're supposed to see each other
through the thick clouds of self that lie between
are we supposed to see each other