By sick fate we are born They should have used condoms Everything is being blamed on us Mistakes, their fuck-ups
Weight of the world on shoulders Mentally so close to breakdown Life tends to become distorted When everything is shit except piss
Suicide is not a solution But it remains an excellent option Perhaps the time is ripe to go Time to harvest what we have sown
From wet womb we are torn Thrown in their nightmare world Year after year being pushed too far Till we cross the final line
Suicide is not a solution But it remains an excellent option Perhaps the time is ripe to go Time to harvest what we have sown Rotten seeds have now grown up Separate them from the good ones May all deathwishes come now true And conclude that: B.16.15.18.21.24.25!!!
