hatred is all that ever
intertwines itself within my
fraying veins, embedded
deeply and melding
until even the sharpest of blades
are unable to dig it out
and i slowly begin to unravel.
Get down, get low, turn the radio on
You’re invited to a graveyard party tonight
Punk is heavy and the moon is full
Dead never looked to beautiful…
Don’t expect me back next morning
I’ll be busy shopping for body bags
And tagging my own fresh cadaver
The grave won’t dig itself, you’ll see
Don’t expect my visit this afternoon
I’ll be sniffing aroma formaldehyde
And letting my tailor sew me a suit
I’m composing my eulogy, obituary
Don’t expect me to sit on for supper
I’ll have a chat with the undertaker
Updated my last will and testament
For the church pastor’s wake litany
Don’t expect me to stay for tonight
I’m picking the colour of my coffin
And planning funeral arrangements
But you’re welcome to come with me
Don’t expect me to be here for forever
And stick around for this deadbeat life
Baby, don’t you see? You’re the reason
Why I’m throwing this party, honestly.
What happened to the life of the party?
I’m not kidding, we’re all dead
Now everybody’s passed out, face down
The sun is rising and the fire has faded away
And even if we have to move it to the next town
We’re gonna rock it, this week anyway.
D-I-E…we won’t be dead forever!
sure, just keep
just how any
can i even