Song About Suicide... You Won't Believe It: 3 AM [Studio Version]
Channel: REALGroupStation
Date: 12/07/2021

The year was 2012, I was unmedicated with bipolar depression.
I usually write when I am manic but this time I was able to get my thoughts on paper on a bipolar depression roll.  In this video I am reflecting on my suicide attempt by hanging a rope in the gazebo and contemplating suicide.  My dad ended up seeing me in the gazebo and that was the first time I was hospitalized.  I was a year going on and off antipsychotics, 7 them to be exact, and was going through tremendous amount of suffering due to the side effects from the drugs.  I was fearful to commit suicide while off them, and equally terrified from the akathesia and suicide ideations they caused.  So, I have decided that I would be completely off drugs for at least 2 years and that lead me up to writing the lyrics to this song at 3 in the morning.  Later that year of 2012 I was so fed up with life that I ended up taking my push lawnmower and wheeling it across highway 61 holding a sign that literally said "Mentally Insane.  Need Cash."  I guess that was my opportunity on how to make money as a homeless beggar because I would be awake 24 hrs and then sleep 12 hours, over and over, so unfortunately I thought the only way out was homelessness.  I never said I made smart decisions, but the cops eventually saw me and my brother ended up picking me up about mile and half down the highway.  The dread of depression is real, and 2012 was a year where I started my first album Servitude.  Note: I never really made music to please the general crowd, and I would never sell myself out to perform the likes of someone to get popular.  But it would be nice to get my music heard out there.  If someone is listening to it right now, please like, comment, and subscribe and hit the bell button to see more studio versions of my favorite songs I produced.

Please support me by downloading 3 A.M. here: 

https://realgroupstation.bandcamp.com/track/3-a-m

Excerpt:

Yeah, it's about 3 AM
But here I lay awake again
I was so calm, not restless eh
Life should be good
So why can't I sleep anyways?

I grumble and fumble on my empty thoughts
Yet, don't understand why my heart aches, tumbles and drops
It seems like I am in my best of regards
Though I am all intact, I somewhat feel several broken shards

Is there a way, in which I could describe my day?
Well, it wasn't black or white, seem to start a little less than alright
But got better not worse, in fact I guarantee first
That I was living in a land of a creativity jurisdiction

No longer a fiction, but a terrible addiction to this stupid rapping game
I sure wish I could shake my name cause I definitely feel a little ashamed
That I am just a lowlife nut job, who's forgot, 
How to give blow jobs to a system in which I often feel enslaved to
But that's not new, I am just a little more than blue, 
And sometimes solar, it's true, 
I know how to tie my shoes, but my mind fucks me up 
and I can't really do nothing about it but boo hoo my own stupid boo boos
Golly, I so feel like doo doo

So here I write my poetic words to describe my situation
I am hoping once I vent that I would feel some elimination
Of waste of thoughts, enslavery shots my freedom down the drain
It's a shame cause every mother fucker feels meds will make me sane
Perhaps it will, but most likely it won't, cause at least 
I ain't throwing myself in public making a fool out of my pain,
Ah yes, where the fuck are dem gains?
I am not trying to be so lame

Chorus:

Do you feel my pain?
Oh, wait that is only strains
Of my low life
Do or Die?  Don't look alright?

Do you see a soldier?
Or a crazy spoiler?
I see a crime
Suicide?  No it's a fight, denied

With a hymn and a holler, why do I bother?
I know there is a father, who wants his son's coffer
I haven't won the lottery yet, nor do I apply to this offer
Cause to me I don't breathe well under water or cold hard cash

It would be great though to have a passion for something
Wish it was reality but I still seem to be stuck without mentality
So that is my fallacy on why I cannot live a galaxy of luxurious restructuring

Yep, that is my story and lecturing
It's not a hypothesis, or a synonym for a guess
It's just that I often don't feel very blessed
But I did put a rope around my head, and I tried them 7 antipsychotic meds,
But all I could see was me facing red, and rather still put myself out of dread

Or how about them mood stabilizers, they would work I bet?
I thought they were supposed to allow me to aspire or hire me with success?
But all it did was cause me to undress cause I was always tired,
I wasn't a liar just had to fight the sick feelings under fire, 
And them sleeping pills had me mired so I conspired
And ran my lawnmower I bought on highway 61 shirtless,
For all its worth, I was greatly tersed for better or for worse
All I kept thinking was the sign I made, so I could get paid,
It said mentally insane, need cash so as every car passed 
I made it last even though I looked like an ass.  I ask,

Chorus [x1.5]