Do It Yourself Drive-By Truckers

My daddy called me on a Friday morning
So sad to tell me just what you'd done
You tried so hard to make us all hate you
But I think you was the only one

Sick, tired, pissed and wired
You never thought about anyone else
You tried in vain to find something to kill you
In the end you had to do it yourself

Who's to blame for the loveless marriage?
Who's to blame for the broken band?
You ran from life and all its pleasures
Your own teeth marks in your own damned hand

Thrown out before the date expired
You'd rather die than let anyone help
You'd rather die than take a stab at living
Nothing would kill you, so you do it yourself

Everyone has those times when the night's so long
The dead-end life just stares you down
Leanin' back under the microphone
And turn your demons into walls of goddamned noise and sound

And it's a sorry thing to do to your sweet sister
A sorry thing to do to your little boy
A sorry thing to do to the folks who loved you
Your mama and daddy lost their only boy