Twenty-Three

I don't sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death

Down the hall, there's a kid that I know

He's kind of quirky so I say hello

He's so sarcastic but he's always right

Working on those problem sets late into the night

Mad magazines sit piled by his bed

A million brilliant thoughts going all through his head

We bike to class in the autumn rain

He tells me that he's fine but I know he's in pain

Pat I miss you dude it's so hard to say goodbye

In Europe last winter you were tired of the lie

Monoxide in the bathroom but the door was locked

We were always there for you, you could have called and

talked

I felt guilty and alone and so sick when I discovered

You did it in Berlin, you'd just talked to your mother

I guess it was too much, depression disillusion

Maybe suicide's an answer, but it wasn't the solution

And I wish that you hadn't done it

Could have won it and moved on from it

And we could have grown old together

But instead you'll always be 23.... 23.

We sat together one night on El Camino

On the bench by the bus stop hiding from El Nino

You told me your secret I just sat there in shock

You couldn't tell your parents, you couldn't break that

lock

Cognitive dissonance, trapped in your shell

Depression and regression made your life a living hell

The pain was too intense, the fence too strong to break

So you went to Germany, it was too much to take

You came back broken hearted distracted by the dream

The worlds collided now, college wasn't what it seemed

You went to back to Berlin to find yourself once more

They broke down the door and found you lying on the

floor

I took the Amtrak up the coast, your mom met me at the

station

I went to see your house and photos of your graduation

We drove to your grave, no tombstone where you lay

Your freshmen yearbook's by your bed and your room's in

disarray

And I wish that you hadn't done it

Could have won it and moved on from it

Now we'll never grow old together

But you're in my memory, 23... 23.

Lars: Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to meet a good

friend of mine, this is Patrick Wood!

Pat: What's up Lars?

Lars: What's up Pat?

Pat: How you doing man?

Lars: Good. What do you think of me having my recording

equipment take up three quarters of our small room in

the Kimball dorm?

Pat: It's no problem man, I love you.

Lars: I love you too Pat.

Pat: Thanks Lars.

Lars: Pat Wood! Hey that's you.

Pat: (Sarcastic laughter)

And I wish that you hadn't done it

Could have won it and moved on from it

Now we'll never grow old together

But you're in my memory, 23... 23.

Suicide sucks.