The paperwork called it suicide.
A bullet from a 45.
Nobody cared, nobody cried.
Don't that make you feel sad?
Peter Brent,
coke is here and sent for the police.
Least man came to Peters name.
God may rest in peace.
No one saw the note beside the body.
No one knew the problem.
Oh my God.
You were the suicide.
The body remains on the dance of bad forgotten in a fire
like the letter that was blown aside.
Don't that make you want to smile?
Yeah, yeah, yeah,
yeah, yeah, yeah.
Smile a little while.
Oh, that's suicide.
Yeah, baby.
No one was really satisfied about number 81.
The autopsy proved that Peter lied,
but they never could find the gun.
No one saw the nervous out of body.
Nobody knew the problem.
Oh my God. Suicide.
The paper of carbon suicide.
A bullet from a 45. Nobody cared, nobody cried.
Don't that make you wanna move?
Yeah.