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

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 cliché poem

Of the person that I long to be

I wanna die like Jim Morrison

A fucking 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 cliché 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

Because 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 cliché poem

Of the person that I long to be

I'll lock myself alone in a room (Just know)

Drink until the clock strikes noon

With just a pen, a pill, and some paper (We are)

And maybe I will write a sad song (A speck)

Or another cliché poem

Of the person that I long to be (In time)