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The art of suicide
Nightgowns and hair
Curls flying every which where
The pain too pure to hide
Bridges of sighs
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 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?
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?
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 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
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