Life is beautiful, 
Or so they say, 
But I don't think they really know. 
They think the gift of life, 
Bringing a new creature in to the world, 
Is beautiful. 
They think nature, 
So full of living things, 
Is beautiful. 
So what really is "life"? 
And what's the point of it 
If we are all going to die? 
I came in to this world 
With a shotgun in my hands 
And behind that gun is where 
I will make my final stand. 
I don't want to be mourned or missed or cried over. 
No fancy clothes or coffin or service. 
I wanted to be buried with my gun in a pine box. 
When they take my life I want to take their hope, faith, and love. 
I want to destroy them. 
Bring hate, misery, and chaos in to their world. 
Make them question life the way they made me. 
I want them to think about their lives and its worth. 
But what is life, really? 
Is it indeed beautiful? 
What is beauty, really?