It's a Freudian complex The easier it is the harder I try to get out of it I'm the first to admit it When the cigarette's lit only to be extinguished It's a groucho complex You don't love me anyway You're better of with out me (at least that's what I'll say) It depends on the light I'm only suicidal tonight On the outside looking in My self destructisism's my only fight Cause I don't play to win Try to put my finger on it Then frustrated put my fist through the sheetrock Wish I could say it keeps me honest But I know all in all It has not come to grips with detachment disorder Self diagnosis so don't need to hear it from nobody Then retire to my quarters In the midst of a grip of what'd be perceived as OCDS It depends on the light I'm only suicidal tonight On the outside looking in My self destructisism's my only fight Cause I don't play to win