Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday
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Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday
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 fuc*** 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 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 we are a spec in time
[Chorus and second verse in the background]
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* Gracias a dalmita por haber añadido esta letra el 5/7/2006.
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