Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday

Just knowWe areA specIn time.So follow your blissAnd destroy the beautyI'll lock myself alone in a roomDrink until the clock strikes noonWith just a pen, a pill, and some paperAnd maybe I will write a sad songOr another cliche poemOf the person that I long to beI wanna die like Jim MorrisonA fucking rock starI wanna die like God on the cover of time.Just a blink and it's goneSo baby pour some fame in my glass.So kill the forestAnd destroy the beauty.I'll lock myself alone in a roomDrink until the clock strikes noonWith just a pen, a pill, and some paperAnd maybe I will write a sad songOr another cliche poemOf the person that I long to be(Colors blind)the eyes(Sounds deafen)the ear(Flavors numb)the taste(Thoughts weaken)the mindI'll attack someone with a switchblade knifeSo that I can see their painI choose to be a serial killer'Cause the victims don't get any fame.I'll lock myself alone in a roomDrink until the clock strikes noonWith just a pen, a pill, and some paperAnd maybe I will write a sad songOr another cliche poemOf the person that I long to beJust know we are a spec in time[Chorus and second verse in the background]