Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday

Just know

We are

A speck

In time

So follow your bliss

And destroy the beauty

I'll lock myself alone in a room

Drinking until the clock strikes noon

With just a pen, a pill and some paper

And maybe I will write a sad song

Or another cliched poem

Of the person that I long to be

I wanna die like Jim Morrison

A f*cking rock star

I want to 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

Drinking until the clock strikes two

With just a pen, a pill and some paper

And maybe I will write a sad song

Or another cliched poem

Of the person that I long to be

(Colors blind)

The eyes

(Self-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 and I will

Drink until the clock strikes two

With just a pen, a pill and some paper

And maybe I don't understand

Just pour another please

This should foul up the person that I long to be