Thirteen stabwounds cover my skin from the
favours of real friends.

Angels turned to demons as soon as I turned my
back.

And when you least expect it, fate slaps you in
the face.

Take a bite out of life, and life bites back at
you.

Ask the fool for advice, the blood runs out of
his mouth.

Choose your God, ask your master if he could stop
your pain.

Every morning you beg, every evening you pray:

Please God, take the suffering away,

from these thirteen stabwounds covering my skin.

Now the time for revenge has come

with hatred strong enough to feed the whole
planet,

hitting hard as nails through your skull.

The dirt underneath my shoes and the skars on my
skin,

make this life worth living, the struggle is hard

but the struggle is beautifull, it's the through
meaning of life.

While others wheep in complacency,

I put that picture out of my head