Swan Song

You were gonna let me go

No guts to tell me yourself

Go ahead and rub my nose in it

You can't fire me because I quit

You make me feel invisible

Well, surely you see me now

stretched out on the floor of your house

foaming at the mouth with a needle in my arm

next to a smoking gun and an empty razor case

and a note that says



"Dear Jack, I hate you

Love, Diane."



The neighborhood is gonna watch me

as I create the great finale:

a perfect swan dive out the window

crash the car off the road

You're not gonna miss me

but you're gonna remember my body

crumpled in a heap

in the middle of the street

Clean up your mess



Finally you're carrying me over the threshold

Try to revive me with a cold compress

but it's too late

I guess you're best just isn't good enough

when every warm embrace

it was a selfish act

and every smiling face

it was a trap

You shit

You stabbed me in the back



"Dear Jack, I hate you

Love, Diane."



Clean up my mess