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Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday
Senses Fail
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Just know we are
A speck in time
So follow your bliss
And destroy the beauty
I'll lock myself alone in a room
Drink until the clock strikes noon
With just a pen, a pill, and some paper
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clichéd poem
About the person that I long to be
I wanna die like Jim Morrison
A fucking rock star
I wanna die like God on the cover of time
Just a blink and it's gone
So baby pour some fame in my glass
So kill the forest
And destroy the beauty
I'll lock myself alone in a room
Drink until the clock strikes noon
With just a pen, a pill, and some paper
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clichéd poem
About the person that I long to be
Colors blind the eyes
Sounds deafen the ear
Flavors numb the taste
Thoughts weaken the mind
I'll attack someone with a switchblade knife
So that I can see their pain
I choose to be a serial killer 'cause
The victims don't get any fame
I'll lock myself alone in a room
Drink until the clock strikes noon
With just a pen, a pill, and some paper
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clichéd poem
About the person that I long to be
Just know we are a speck in time