I got a tattoo for my best friend,
It’s a tombstone,
And every time someone sees it they tell me “I’m so sorry for your loss”

I say that’s okay, she’s alive, we just have a morbid sense of humor,
And they look at me strangely,
Like there’s something wrong with me,
And I always reply,
If I can’t laugh at death, how can I live without fear of dying?

We are not promised tomorrow,
There’s a chance this second could be our last,
My lungs could refuse to **** in air,
Your heartbeat could stutter out at any moment,

Why worry about that ticking tick?
Let me laugh about it now,
So when death does come for me, just like he will come for you,
I can greet him as an old friend,
Instead of the monster we all dream of.