The Deep End by Twiztid. It's about suicidal ideation and it's beautiful.
"It sits and erodes in the bottomless pit of my soul
Becoming half of the better damaged portion of what's whole
Some call it sick, deranged, insane and sometimes I prefer it
Rather than to be just labeled as plain
Or played like some disfigured chess piece in life's corrupted game
Feel the sorrow life reaps and sows
Accepting it an' still wanting to grow or just let go
But the grips from the fingertips of insanity's overbearing hold
Feels airtight, as if I need the jaws of life to come and cut me out the darkness
In an effort to shed light on the subject to the public
The world can live without me, still feel blessed inside
To speak my mind and hoping they never doubt me
And through death hoping they remember
And never, ever will they ever forget about me
And if I'm resurrected, second coming, a second life
Second chance to know about me, a sight beyond sight
Close your eyes and still see"
"I feel like an eight by ten, in a five by seven
I'm in the wrong frame of mind
And I wish my indiscretions had a warning sign
But I get by, and that's a lie,
But I gotta refuse to let them know that on the line
In which I ride I choose to break away
Wanna bring it back, that which you take from me
Even if it means I gotta go to war with everyone
Who wanted to end my little bit of everything
Guess I'm too mad or too sad to say
I was born in a city, but now I'm living in a confused state
That's full of decay like a toothache
They tried to pull me out but it was too late
Now I'm a product of a brand new hate
I'd rather die than be what you say
Living a lie to let the truth hang
Individualize me like a new game
While the rest of ya'll just sit there and get faded"
"I'm drowning in a pool of my surroundings
I put this knife to my Adam's apple
And start the backwards countdown from ten
I'm a tattered rascal fleeting from the lines
An' acid jackal, shackles all on my palms
Because psychedelic trips gone bad (indeed)
Recollections of my pissed off dad sitting in the Pathfinder
And I still ain't found shit but
Old silhouetted pictures of me with my wrists cut
And I wish you well
Hell, I was bullied by the Minotaur
School with a crew with a toolie inside a rental car
You don't learn from God inside a seminar
But you hear about the devil every which way you turn
Perhaps we were made to burn in hell fire
And I desire to be stronger
But the songs that I sing go ever somber in this life of mine
Memoirs of the suicidal, I guess my father is my truest idol, gone"
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