Song About Suicide... You Won't Believe It: 3 AM [Live] [2020]
Channel: REALGroupStation
Date: 09/07/2020

Song About Suicide... You Won't Believe It: 3 AM

Download 3 A.M. here: 

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

https://soundclick.com/r/s8ide6

Download Servitude Album here:

https://realgroupstation.bandcamp.com/album/servitude

https://soundclick.com/r/a25307

If you are in dire situation, please contact the:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-8255

Or text 741741

3 A.M. is a song in which I was experiencing bipolar depression.  I usually create music whether I am manic or depressed, but this track is very personal.  I talk about several key factors that happened in 2012.  My reflection of all the medications I have been on.  My bad luck with personal experiences such as the time I took my pushmower on highway 61 while I wore a sign that said mentally insane, need cash.  Later the police stopped me after a couple miles.  And most importantly the time in 2009 where I reflect on the time in which I wanted to commit suicide by hanging up a rope in the gazebo which was a year after I was diagnosed with schizoaffective bipolar disorder, and later bipolar disorder 1.

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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?

Verse 1:

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

Verse 2:

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]:

Excerpt:

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

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Singer, Songwriter, Producer, Video Editor: TraVisT

http://www.youtube.com/REALGroupStation
http://www.facebook.com/REALGroupStation

Producer: REALGroupStation

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