When the youth die we always say they passed before their time
But at what time in our lives would they say that we just die?
And if I euthanize myself at the peak of my health will they still speak of me like they couldn't tell the wrong from the right
I bet they would call me kid
I bet they would call me innocent
Trigger finger to the head, you just tell me when and I'll pull it in
Because I'm the first of a dying breed
All I wanted was a dynasty
(???) speak in honesty but it ended back in indecision
And the misery of the mystery of what people will think of me if I live to twenty something and don't end up dying in my teens
Like, is it before my time yet?
Okay
Just tell me when
Cause if all we have is how we're remembered
I'll burn a church down just to get trapped under it
In a heroic suicide of trying to save another life but I knew nothing was forming inside
It was my cover
And I'm up to my neck in nooses
And I don't mean to be a nucance
But the inconvient truth is found when all the fucking news says is
Guns, guns, weather, guns, guns
Yet another shooting
There's too many half empty coffins
We all care for one day shrug it off and say "the youth die so often"
And it's true
So just tell me when, so I can bid adieu to killing time and just kill myself instead
But we won't break thread because I've broken enough skin
I guess that's the difference between a starving artist
And the well fed
And if I met father time I'd tell him to kill himself for all the trials in this world that he has still yet to tell
And if his brother the reaper calls to collect and get him and I'll let it go to voice mail
Because (???) if I don't get into Hell
If Hell exists, or if this isn't it
If the devil himself would even take me in
And I wish he would just that I can report back home the same mistaken applicants from even the best of kids
Just like me
We don't know how much blood to drink until I taste the grapes
Or if by them will I be wasted enough to dance on my own grave
In a drunkenly manner of a certain rant or rave
About a boy with good morals but a lack of fate
Turned into a saved man but now a cripple
With a griphold and a Bible and a mind on a rifle
Living life inside scriptures is like living with a blindfold
So wrapped up in the afterlife that you put aside the real world
But the rest of us have to live here so would you mind keep your mouth closed if your mind matches
And if the matches light will you sift through my ashes for dust mites
But (???) the only trophy that I have earned was an urn
For life participating
And I'm just waiting to fill it
We're all just waiting to fill it
Affiliated and create a feeling until someone else kills it
And someone always does
And everything we love becomes our disease
Eventually getting words from my mind to yours will be like pushing a corpse down the street
Just tell me when
And I'll make that corpse me
