Suddenly I wake up, not in my coffin but inside my bed. And all of the fun times I had at my party were really just things I'd made up in my head. I look all around and see my old journal with a name scribbled out, though I've read it before. There's nothing, it's over, my party is over, I try to sleep and beg for some more. I'm in love with too many and trust way to few, my mind is on fire and I'm crying for you. I hope that my funeral party is fun. In a couple of years, and I mean the real one. I look at my phone and I see those I love and they'll never know all my feelings for them. I finger my knives and I throw on my shoes and it's time to go walking at midnight again. You know that I trust you though I say I don't and I know that you're sad and I know that it's pain. I won't smoke tomorrow, or drink, man I promise, but no promises for when I'm feeling ashamed. I lie on my pillow and look at the ceiling and wait for the party to come back to me. And you're off and I wonder if you have a lover, and I close my eyes and cry silently. But now I'm asleep and my party's begun and everyone's quiet and I'm having fun and I think that tomorrow I want this again, you're invited to my funeral party my friend. I hope that my funeral party is fun. In a couple of years and I mean the real one.
