There's many things a therapist will sayWhen you tell them you want to die They'll tell you how to make the bad thoughts obey But most of what they say are lies For me , my life revolved in my depression My life had become a constant transgression But writing would take it away The pen touched the page and the words would come flowing Unstoppable like a harsh wind blowing Like beer to a drunk I was intoxicated by inkBetter than any therapy , the page was my shrink I won't lie and say I'm perfectly okayBut I have to say , I'm mostly , perfectly gay