Waiting for my soul to be freed,
For the singing of birds
To rain on my parade.
How long must I wait
For my last chance of fate?
Tonight we celebrate the young,
Wishing to be dead,
Forgetting adulthood all together,
Omitting breath from our lungs.
Smoked and dry,
What a time to be alive.
In an era,
Where death is among us,
Existence is high.
