The Best Days Of My Death

When I was younger, so much younger than today,
I needed help, and I mean in a psychiatric way.
I bouced around the padded cell that was inside my head.
But then I found the cure for everything… is being fucking dead.

And so I took myself inside and had a suicide of mind.
Ripped out every little scrap of life and soul that I could find.
I killed myself when I lost my heart.
But one poor boy’s end is someone else’s start.
Live fast, die young, I said.
And my last word on my last breath
Is: These are the best days of my death.

When I was twenty-one, it wasn’t fun to be a schizo fag.
In a disco scene of beauty queens is really not my bag.
Hated everything I was and I just wanted it to end.
Then a little voice inside my head said Satan is your friend.

And so I sold my soul for scrap and threw a party on its grave.
Now I don’t need to take the crap, cause I was lost and now I’m saved.
If life’s a bitch, just put that bitch to sleep.
Don’t take their pitch, just take a fucking leap.
Live fast, die young, I said.
And my last word on my last breath
Is: These are the best days of my death.

And now I’m thirty years of age and all the cages I once made
Lie in the ruins of my rage, and in a past I blew away.
These are the days I thought I’d never see.
But now I’ve found that death can make you free.
Live fast, die young, I said.
And my last word on my last breath
Is: These are the best days of my death.

So kill all your dreams.
Kill all your lies.
Kill all your hopes
And you’ll soon realise
If there’s nothing to live for
There’s nothing to lose.
There’s nothing to hold you but you.

These are the best days of my death