Irony of Dying on Your Birthday

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 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 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 In the eyes Sounds deafen on the ear Flavors numb, all I taste Thoughts weaken, on the mind I'll attack somebody with a switchblade knife So that I can see their pain I choose to be a serial killer 'Cause the victims don't get- 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 Just know we are a spec in time