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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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