Pessimist

Boys don’t cry, they just want to die.
Stumble and cough, then grin — a lie.
Would you look into my eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes?
Will you be my new drag?
Boxing up all of your things with tape.
Write your address — they won’t be mailed.
Can I still be your pessimist?
Boys don’t cry, they just want to die.
Stumble and cough, then grin — a lie.
Would you look into my eyes, eyes, eyes, eyes?
Will you be my new drag?