The art of suicide

The art of suicide, nightgowns and hair Curls flying every which-way The fate too pure to hide Ridges of size Meant to conceal lovers lies Under the arches of moonlight and sky Suddenly easy to contemplate why Why Why live a life That's painted with pity and sadness and strife Why dream a dream That's tainted with trouble and less than it seems Why bother bothering Just for a poem or another sad song to sing Why live a lie Why live a lie The art of suicide, gritty and clean Conveys a theatrical scene Alas, I've gone she cried Veins displayed Melodramatically laid Under the arches of moonlight and sky Suddenly easy to contemplate why Why Why live a life That's painted with pity and sadness and strife Why dream a dream That's tainted with trouble and less than it seems Why bother bothering Just for a poem or another sad song to sing Why live a lie Why live a lie Why live a life That's painted with pity and sadness and strife Why dream a dream That's tainted with trouble and less than it seems Why bother bothering Just for a poem or another sad song to sing Why live a lie Why live a lie Why live a lie Why live a lie Life is not like a gloomy Sunday With a second ending where the people are disturbed Well they should be disturbed Because there's a story that ought to be heard Life is not like a gloomy Sunday With a second ending where the people are disturbed Well they should be disturbed Because there's a lesson that really ought to be learned The world is full of poets We don't need any more The world is full of singers We don't need any more The world is full of lovers We don't need any more