Turning the Gun On Myself

The morning is bright as Rapper's Delight

Floats up to my room from the street

And who would disturb my slumbering world

With this late '70's beat

I'm taking my aim from this window pane

Then I'm turning the gun on myself

The Upper West Side is supposed to be quiet

It's supposed to be wealthy and dull

So how to explain this thundering pain that's

Pushing it's way through my skull

I'm taking a leave of my senses, Wee Hee!

Then I'm turning the gun on myself

New York is loud, it's wonderfully loud

I wouldn't live anywhere else

But I need my rest to be at my best

Away from the high decibels

I'm losing my will, I'm shooting to kill

Then I'm turning the gun on myself

I'm losing my will and I'm shooting to kill

Then I'm turning the gun on myself