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Senses Fail » Irony of Dying On Your Birthday
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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 (chorus and second verse in the background)
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