Letra de Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday - Senses Fail
Letra de canci�n de Irony Of Dying On Your Birthday de Senses Fail lyrics
Just know
We Are
A Speck
In time
So follow your bliss,
And destroy the beauty
I'll lock myself alone in a room,
Drinking until the clock strikes noon
With just a pen, a pill and some paper
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clich� poem
Of the person that I long to be
I wanna die like Jim Morrison
A fucking rock star
I want to 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,
Drinking until the clock strikes two
With just a pen, a pill and some paper
https://www.coveralia.com/letras/irony-of-dying-on-your-birthday-senses-fail.php
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clich� poem
Of the person that I long to be
(colors blind)
The eyes
(self 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 and I will
Drink until the clock strikes two
With just a pen, a pill and some paper
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clich� poem
Of the person that I long to be
We Are
A Speck
In time
So follow your bliss,
And destroy the beauty
I'll lock myself alone in a room,
Drinking until the clock strikes noon
With just a pen, a pill and some paper
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clich� poem
Of the person that I long to be
I wanna die like Jim Morrison
A fucking rock star
I want to 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,
Drinking until the clock strikes two
With just a pen, a pill and some paper
https://www.coveralia.com/letras/irony-of-dying-on-your-birthday-senses-fail.php
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clich� poem
Of the person that I long to be
(colors blind)
The eyes
(self 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 and I will
Drink until the clock strikes two
With just a pen, a pill and some paper
And maybe I will write a sad song
Or another clich� poem
Of the person that I long to be