Your heart is always almost beating,
along with windy frozen tunes.

But you say you've laughed enough,
your closet's stuffed with last year's blues.
You know by summertime your suicide's just last year's news..

What will we find inside of your room?
Notes in the margins, records always spinning, clues..
You know you want us all to know
your little soul grew old too soon,
and surprises lost their thrill. 
Vodka and pills and the Marquee Moon..


"In Anticipation of Your Suicide", Bedroom Walls
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