Bipola - The Brave & the Broken Lyrics

All I want for Christmas is euthanasia
But I'll settle for a slit wrist, noose or razor
Yeah death is on my wishlist, the devil's got a hitlist
And god is such a dimwit he'll offer up the kid quick
Long as others live, shit... Ain't I got a say in it
Made my bed and laid in it, a coma if you will
But still woke up awful ill
With those same old morbid chillin' thoughts
Like villains oughta win at a killin' sport, concealed my thoughts
Inside this living corpse whose only animate side
Exists to save my zombie brain from being cannibalised
Plan to survive but my plan B is die
If that axe in my mind gets too graphic at night
And the weight of my regrets is too great to try and exercise these demons
So intent on staying alive at the expense of my own breathing
Nowhere left to hide, the season's change has rearranged my feelings
Now I'm feeble shaken weakened
And can't even place the reason why
I feel I have a need to die and take my place beneath the sky
But when I see their faces deep in mind
And see them break believe I cry
Weep and shake and wheeze till my
Spirit aches to breathe inside
Then again it already did... even back when I was a kid
The heart that never counted, then depression found my manic soul
Forced it down the rabbit hole, taught it not to have a goal
Other than a happy whole which sometimes felt achievable
In fact the only reason that I'm even breathing still
Is that little dream they killed or tried their very best to...
Then they said their hail mary's and bless yous
But I know it's farce like noah's ark
Got nothing to confess to
Other than being too kind for my own good
Too good for my own kind
Too quick to believe in that little fairy tale called mind
Forget happily ever afters, please
I'd be happy with severed arteries
In a state of pure bliss as I bled out
Still a step up if I head south
Cause hell's got a place for my head now
And it can't be much worse in the dead ground
And yo I'm on the saddest path, yeah best believe
That I done put the tragic in trajectory
Thinkin' back, all the times that I've tried to escape my mind
What they call suicidal I call the daily grind
What they call suicidal I call the daily grind
What they call suicidal I call the daily grind
What they call suicidal I call the daily grind
They call suicidal, I call the daily grind
They call suicidal, I call the daily grind
They call suicidal, I call the daily grind
They call suicidal, I call the motherf*ckin' daily grind
Judge me...

I do not even know who I am anymore
I do not even hold onto hope anymore
I do not even know who I am anymore
Not that I ever did...