The Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday
Senses Fail
Oh, just know,
We are,
A spec,
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 cliche poem
Of the person that I long to be.
I wanna die like Jim Morrison
A fucking rockstar,
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 cliche poem
Of 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 cliche poem
Of the person that I long to be.
Just know
[I wanna die like god on the cover of time]
(I'll lock myself alone in a room,
Drink until the clock strikes noon)
We are
[Die like god on the cover of time]
(With just a pen, a pill, and some paper)
A spec
[Just just a blink then its gone]
(And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another cliche poem)
In time
[So baby pour some fame in my glass]
(Of the person that I long to be.)
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