I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love

Well let's go back to the day that starts it all. I wake up in the morning and no matter how sunny or cloudy it is, I feel like dying.
I can't begin to let you know just what I'm feeling. I find pain in the smallest thing, but never joy in the biggest. I think I'm falling apart and they gave me the glue.
Some pills to push myself back from the edge and back into my tranquil room.

The red ones help me fly, and the blue ones help me fall. Uppers and downers. Stimulants and tranquilizers, a bipolar medical battle of constant volume changes.

I wish I had that gun, so I could blow my brains out against the ceiling. And as the fragments of my skull begin to fall, you'd lap it up.
Fall on your tongue like pixie dust and it would help you get through it all.
I'm such a fuck up and a pest, but it's what I'm good at right?

"Just think happy thoughts and we'll fly home," the shrink says to me over and over on his stupid suede couch from hell.
I won't go unless you go with me.
We'll fly home, you and I.

C'mon!

I've told them I'd do it, and they never believe me. I tell them I'd do it, and they never believe me!
Now honestly, that's what I said to her.

Ugh.....shit.

And all that she has to say is exactly what everyone else has to say to me...

THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS
THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS
THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS
THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS

It actually works sometimes, and when the red ones make me fly, and the blue ones make me fall, that is when I go back to killing myself.
*sighs* Think..happy..thoughts....think...happy..thoughts...Woo!