So what’s left to say?
In the end if I hate less and love more
I think I’ll be okay
I made the wounds in my wrists so deep
I watched the crimson rivers begin to seep
My memories flooded like the blood
Triumphs and failures clear as mud
Ever since I was a boy the first thing I knew was sadness
I saw the slow dying of life and learned of death’s badness
So what’s left to say?
In the end if I hate less and love more
I’ll think I’ll be okay
I tightened the rope around my neck
Took my last breath saying what the heck?
My body tumbled down obeying gravity
Like the sins of my past in their depravity
The involuntary tremors making me flop like a fish on land
The body’s begging for a thimble of air or a rescuing hand
So what’s left to say?
In the end if I hate less and love more
I think I’ll be okay
Loading the pistol with the right ammo for the task
I need maximum damage for all the filth in which I basked
Would it take one hollow point to the brain or two?
How many girls were victim to my lust, just a few?
One is too many so I will load the cold gun all the way
Cock back and a flash sends my head into gory disarray
So what’s left to say?
In the end if I hate less and love more
I think I’ll be okay
Just one more my discerners I promise it’ll end soon
The tales I spin are pieces of a whole perfectly hewn
My final death was in oil and water among holy things
It was on a cross I carry daily while my angel gently sings
This suicide doesn’t evoke past sins and misgivings
It beckons me ahead to celestial glory and thanksgivings
It is certainly as bloody a death as all the rest
But it leads to the end with our one last test
So what’s left to say?
In the end if I hate less and love more
I think I’ll be okay
-CL Fuqua