My barstool is my 6-foot plot of land,
that I jump down from.
Tied off over by the pipe by my hand,
kick off with a wham.

Show me the ropes,
tell me what to do.
Show me the knots,
only one time will do.

Kicking around like a beached whale,
not what I had in mind.
Vision distorts with every despeate gasp,
could I've done it wrong?

Show me the ropes,
don't call the cops.
Show me the way,
emergency exit.

Wake up in a bright white room alone,
nurses for company.
In this bed with a crushed throat,
cut to help me breath.

Show me the ropes,
I've done it this time.
Show me the scars,
prove what I've done.

12/23/2003

Author's Note: I remember reading only 16% of hangings are successful. The onesthat are, are usually by choaking to death, instead of a broken neck. Sad.

Posted on 12/24/2003
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