I want to be dead with my friends

Wide-eyed, brilliant, dynamic rest
I want to be dead with my friends

Where the iron sharpens the iron

I want to be dead with my friends
A vulgar, loud, unforgettable end
I want to be dead with my friends

Let boredom cease the beating of our purple hearts
Against this, even gods fight violently in vain
What chance could we have stood?
We’re the last of the lost,
But now we are the first of the fashionably late

Loved ones decompose
You’ll dance around the bones
But most of us are wholly ghosts
All of us were wholly ghosts

We made the scene when we made a scene
And though it was brief, it meant everything

Oh, what a pity, now they’re bound to make us saints

Against this, even boys fight violently in vain
What chance could we have stood?
We’re the last of the lost,
but now we are the first of the fashionably late

I refuse to be the only man put to rest in a mass grave

You were all there with me