She was the shrink
I was crazy
Depressed is the clinical name
All I wanted was a blood bath
With me as the victim
Perhaps a leap from a tall building (I’m afraid of heights)
Or a good old fashion hanging (keep with tradition)
Overdose (seems too easy)
Maybe the classic razor to the wrist (to cliché)
Gun shot to the head (to messy)
None of these would due
It needed to be creative.
I wanted to go out like Fred Astaire and Gene Kelley
Dancing madly backwards
In the rain, of all places for Christ sakes
And get run over by the A Train.
While Count Basie’s Orchestra is swinging its ass off
Or Sting is singing Roxanne.
It needs to be like a wedding, a celebration if you will
"Bon voyage Mr. Kilmer you’re off to the darkness
Send us a postcard if you can.
We understand, but if anyone can do it you would be the one!"
Then of course there’s the note…
How many people can you thank or make cry?
It would be like the Emmy’s where you get cut off by some crummy music
I mean sweet Jesus can’t a person just say a few words on his own behalf
And not have to deal with rules and regulations?
There is nothing in this world that is easy.
I can’t even die without a project manager and a caterer.
Seems like such a waste of time.
Maybe I’ll have my toenails painted instead.