The Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday

Just know we are a spec in timeSo follow your bliss and destroy your beauty.I'll lock myself alone in a room.Drink until the clock strikes noonWith just a pen, a pill, and some paper.And maybe I will write a sad songOr another cliche poemOf the person that I long to be.I wanna die like Jim MorrisonA 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 your beauty.I'll lock myself alone in a room.Drink until the clock strikes noonWith just a pen, a pill, and some paper.And 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 mind.I'll attack someone with a switchblade knifeSo 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 roomDrink until the clock strikes noonWith just a pen, a pill, and some paper.And maybe I will write a sad songOr another cliche poemOf the person that I long to be.Just know...(I'll lock myself alone in a roomDrink until the clock strikes noon)(I wanna die like Jim MorrisonA fucking rockstar.)We are...(With just a pen, a pill, and some paper)(I wanna die like God, on the cover of time.)A spec...(And maybe I will write a sad song or another cliche poem -(Just a blink and it's gone.)In time...- of the person that I long to be.)(So baby pour some fame in my glass.)