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The Irony of Dying on Your Birthday Video (MV)






Senses Fail - The Irony of Dying on Your Birthday Lyrics




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 want to die like Jim Morrison
A f*cking 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
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
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




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 want to die like Jim Morrison
A f*cking 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
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
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: DANIEL GERARD TRAPP, DAVID MICHAEL MILLER, GARRETT MICHAEL ZABLOCKI, JAMES ANTHONY BUDDY NIELSEN, MICHAEL JOHN GLITA
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC

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