Depression that Decompresses the Compressed and Compromised Promises of the Con Artists

Lets disconnect from life support and suffocate our way to the earliest convenience
When we won't need to use words anymore to communicate our feelings
To the last testimony of whimsy with the half drawn on smiles of our corpses
We can even hold hands just before our eternal rest
Or maybe share a casket after all we shared everything else
Its only deemed improper because the stock footage said it was so
But please let the breathing tube cease to pump air
Let's pull each others plugs thus pulling the plugs of the final words, taunts, criticisms that anyone wanted to share
It is best that we make this decision hastily for then we may want to live again
When we think of all the better things that we have cast aside just to be eternally by our sides
This stupefied spread sheet dictating the varying ways that we wasted time
Spent on insults and blaming, spent on spiteful name calling
But in the final breath when our bodies slowly grow stiff
There will be only happiness forced to be expressed here
Do not worry though, though the road will be tough
The calculations will be smoothly done
So go on throw out blame name games with out so much as a switcheroo
Its the oldest story in the book
The Fucktastic Telling of a Fucking Retard sprawled out in little red letters
Where the politically correct tally up the rights they've blockaded by shitting on the expressions of the stupid
But its not worrying the worriers they just sit back sipping black tea from a white mug
It burns the tongue but we newly dead by immediate design do not care
We smile in whimsy at the escapades of the dapper gent, the whoring mothers
Let's just give it our best before we shoot out the lights
Before the glass shatters all around the feet
With the two or three or four communal suicides sighing relief
There souls trapped in purgatory but not on the earth
That is a blessing
The grandest of blessings
A blessing within a curse
A perfect blessed thing.