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!!!