No, I'm not going to kill myself. sorry if it's bad.

In this room I've made my home
all white and lifeless, chills and spite
It's all I have, a roof above my head.
Here I'll stay writing from my hospital bed

And as I sleep, I'll curl the sheets
around my neck and make it like an accident
They'll say "sorry he had to go"
That it was suicide they will never know

When I reach my destination
Shaking hands just like the prom
Hopefully they'll have a place
Where I can be alone

And in this room I've made my home
So white with brightness, thrills, delight
It's all I have, a place to be myself
And I'll never know whether it's heaven or hell.