| Often I think about how I would rather be dead than alive
|
| It’s merely preference, if we were never born then we would know nothing else
|
| People scared to die — why?
|
| When death approaches it must be our time
|
| I don’t understand the worry over lost life
|
| Do you think you’ll think about it
|
| When you’re dead and in the ground?
|
| I’m much more concerned with how you are
|
| You got me so nihilistic
|
| In existential thought, I’m drowning
|
| I sit around and reminisce
|
| Why can’t I forget about the way my fingertips felt on your skin?
|
| And how your touch makes me so loyal to your lips?
|
| It’s so unusual to miss how they met mine
|
| Sometimes, I wonder how you are
|
| But I wouldn’t dare to ask
|
| No, no, no, no
|
| The nights we shared were great
|
| But now they’re in the past
|
| No, no, no, no
|
| The one who lingers fails to live
|
| But I don’t have much more to give
|
| Maybe we could meet up
|
| My wish for death is preference
|
| Don’t tell me I’m selfish
|
| My life is my own to take
|
| I’m much more concerned with how you are
|
| You got me so nihilistic
|
| In existential thought, I’m drowning
|
| I sit around and reminisce
|
| Why can’t I forget about the way my fingertips felt on your skin?
|
| And how your touch makes me so loyal to your lips?
|
| It’s so unusual to miss how they met mine
|
| How am I to live without your light to guide me through the darkest times?
|
| I miss the way you made me feel alive
|
| It’s so unusual to be alive without you by my side |