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Senses Fail From the Depths of Dreams The irony of dying on your birthday just know we are a spec in time "so follow your bliss" and destroy the beauty ill lock myself alone in a room drink untill the clock strikes noon with just a pen a pill and some paper and mabey 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 f***ing rockstar i wanna die like god on the cover of time just a blink and its gone so baby pour some fame in my glass so kill the forest and destroy the beauty ill lock myself alone in a room drink untill the clock strikes noon with just a pen a pill and some paper and mabey 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 ears" "flavours numb the taste" "thoughts weaken the mind" and ill atack someone with a switchblade knife so that i can feel their pain i choose to be a serial killer cuz the victems dont get any fame |
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