On a scale of one to Plath
I'm like a four
My head's not in the oven
But I can't get off the floor
It's not that bad, I won't take it too far
I see a good shrink and
Hey dream boy's no bell jar

I'm not fine but I'll be okay
I probably won't kill myself today

Woolf took a dip
With some rocks in her pockets
I'd say comparatively
I've got a bad case of the fuck it's
It's not that bad and I'm told I'll be fine
But it feels like shit right now
So just let me whine

I'm not fine but I'll be okay
I probably won't kill myself today

The sun rose for Hemingway
When he was twenty-seven
I've got a couple of years
But I doubt it's gonna happen
I'm pretty fucking jaded
For someone my age
But I don't have any plans
With Ernie's twelve-gauge

I'm not fine but I'll be okay
I probably won't kill myself today

I'm not okay but I guess I'll be fine
Please don't call suicide hotline, hotline