I'm not one for grabbing the knife,
Stabbing my heart and ending my life.
Or dragging the blade from palm to elbow,
And fade to pale as the red blood flows.
So next time the pen's gonna sign my note,
I'll rip it all up and slash your throat.
I don't want to be on a noose,
My fate for a life of playing the blues.
Swaying gently from left to right,
The eyes are black as the skin turns white.
So when I think I cannot cope,
I'll see you're hanging from that rope.
