Senses Fail - The Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday

Just know we are a spec in time
So follow your bliss and destroy your 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 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 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...
(I'll lock myself alone in a room
Drink until the clock strikes noon)
(I wanna die like Jim Morrison
A 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.)