In this land far beyond the origin
our lives were broken than chucked in the bin
full of sin this existane becomes resistance
for the primitive man a hate persistance
like a dance that never moves - for us premitive fools
when preety woman walks past - this lost soul never drools
our lives tarnished - souls know nothing of glow
like brocken cars on roads thats needs a toe
on the go all the time like lifes just a rush
if we ever had a life - it has been crushed
and now with this hate brush - we have painted a scene
will we fix ourselves - or wait for some1 to intervine
like it has never been forseen - it will hit us like a storm
how can a man be happy - if he was never born
than like getting cut on a thorn - a drop of red spills
besides worring about happiness - we worrie about bills
and in our wills - death becomes money as money become the end
write someone special your thoughts in the email, just not to hit send
and this shit dont blend- becaouse we are not the same race
however strong hate is - it can be hidden by a happy face
The story of unhappiness has been told a million times
but if death was a lemon .... i am so close ... i am eating limes
a million times - thoughts hit this soul like a bullet
only thing about suicide thats unfimilar- is the moment after i pull it
iv some so close - i am almost feeling the other side
if my soul was born happy - rest of my life has been a evil bride