The art of suicide Nightgowns and hair Curls flying every which where The pain too pure to hide Bridges of Sighs Meant to conceal lover's 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 life Why live a life
The art of suicide Pretty and clean Conveys a theatrical scene "Alas, I'm gone!" she cried Ankles 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 life Why live a life
Life is not like Gloomy Sunday With a second ending When 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 When 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
