When I first Bad Habit (in the sixth grade), this was what it sounded like to me:
"Cutting keeps your words at bay,
down into the source that stains.
Happiness is just a gash away.
When I open up familar scars,
glee goes shooting like a star.
'Cover-it" hasn't failed to follow so far...
And you might say it's self-indulgent,
you might say it's self-destructive,
but, you see, it's more productive
than if I were to be happy.
And pens and penknives take the blame--
strain my neck and scratch my name,
but the ugly marks are worth the momentary gain.
When I jab a sharpened object, in-
quiring angels seem to sing into blades in memorandum.
And you might say it's self-indulgent,
you might say it's self-destructive,
but, you see, it's more productive
than if I were to be happy.
And sappy songs about sex and cheating--
bland accounts of two lovers meeting
make me want to give mankind a beating.
And you might say it's self-destructive,
but, you see, I'd kick the bucket
sixteen times before I'd kick the habit.
And as the skin rips off,
I challenge the revolting Goth.
And even if I quit,
there's not a chance in Hell I'd stop.
And anyone can see the signs--
missions in the summertime (wtf?)
Thank you for your pity! You are too kind!
And you might say it's self-inflicted,
but, you see, that's contradicted--
why on Earth would anyone practice self-destruction?
On bad opinions I'm sick of feeding;
they're not worthy; their minds are cheating.
Makes me want to give mankind a beating...
I've tried bandages and sinking;
I've tried gloves and even thinking;
I've tried fastening (I'd not heard of Vaseline at this point);
I've tried everything!
No one cares if your back is bleeding!
They're concerned what there is hair is seeing! (WTF?)
Looking back, it was all maltreating;
every thought that occurred misleading
makes me want to give myself a beating..."