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Irony of dying on your birthday

par Senses Fail

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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 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 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
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