Choreographed Suicide

Ayy, trees lose their green after spring
Plants wilt away and leave their own seed
Animals burrow up and sleep
Yet, I'm here struggling to make it though the damn week

Romanticizing death
The reaper seems so sweet
Taking in the weak for eternal peace
Tearing them away from their heavy baggage
Including the ugly flesh and meat
Leaving catacombs we call bones
I'm better off by myself
I need space, yeah!

I'm counting on
My selfish doubt
To choreograph
The perfect out

You see me falling
Beneath your feet
You see me crawling
Away from here
I see the altar
Following me
I tried to argue, ay
But it was never enough

I need this time to myself
I need time to myself
I'm counting on
My selfish doubt
To choreograph
The perfect out

Ay, ay, ay
Made my bed
Cleared my head
Closed my eyes
Let me rest
Fuck the help
Fuck my friends
Fuck my life
Let me end

Think I
Think I
Think I

I think need this time to myself
I need time to myself
I'm counting on
My selfish doubt
To choreograph
The perfect out