Of course he’s dead
All good things must come to an end
But he wasn’t good
Father hates him said I too should
He’s the ******* child
And so am I
Go out in public and claims he’s fine
I don't miss him
He was doomed from the start
Perfected the “victim” as an art
And now he’s dead
Energy cannot die so he’s still alive
Gone in the wind along with the lies
Hammer the nails on the coffin
Give him the finest dirt, give him the softest
Hang the jersey up or tuck in the shelf
This is the death of my old self.