Pity Party. (Celebrate)

Verse 1:

There is a rope laying still to the counter...
Calling to string and tie alone.
I wreath it's grip around my neck...
In screaming silence, I die alone.

I wreath it's grip around my neck...
And die alone in screaming silence.
Murder is fresh upon my hands...
But rid of the slightest tear of violence.

Murder lies fresh, cool upon these hands...
Where slightest tears of violence are rid.
Who is here to watch me bleed?
And who follows where my body slid?

Chorus x2:

Who is here to watch me suffer?
Trail where this bleeding body goes?
I guess it's just a pity party.
Let's celebrate to dying slow.

Chorus End.

There are some bullets I never packed...
Sitting motionless in the chamber.
Three, two, one echo the clicks...
Newfound friends of a forlorn stranger.

One, two, three echo the clicks...
Friends gather in a stranger's presence.
The countdown begins, on my countenance...
Ridding a soul of Life's warm essence.

Counting down, fading down...
Ridding my soul of its last escape.
I shot this sheriff in his p**is,
So who else is left to call it rape?

Chorus x2 (2nd time with variation.):

Who is here to watch me suffer?
Trail where this bleeding body goes?
I guess it's just a pity party.
Let's celebrate to dying slow.

Variation: (Whispered.)
(Let's celebrate to dying slow...
Let's celebrate to dying...
Let's celebrate...
Celebrate...
Celebrate...
Celebrate...)