Before you turn,
think twice,
feel thrice,
for there's no come back
from that.

No more handshakes,
no white flags,
no Sunday prayers,
children smiles.

Before you do,
think twice,
feel thrice,
for there's no come back
from that.

No man can turn back
the hands of time.
No god can.

No smile can turn back
the tears once run.
Nothing can cure
once broken heart.
Like chalk it breaks,
for life.

Before you turn,
press your right hand
to chest - left side,
and hear the beat.

The perfect sound.

Getting thinner and thinner
and skinner and *****
and gloomier and weaker,
unhappier and paler,
depressed more and crazier
and messed, death-obsessed
and stripped to the ribs 
and scarer and thinner
and lighter and paler,
less pretty, enslaved and
less happy, not happy,
Auschwitz-like, so horrid
self-killing, deploring,
and faker, unhappier
and skinner and broken
and scarer and scarer
and thinner and thinner
and thinner and thinner
and ghostler,
and death-like,
fibre-glassed,
dead thin,
dead,
inside and out.

You say they're killing, they're drilling,
they're willing to steal it,
they're ******, they're blanking,
they're laughing, they're faking,
they're making a fool out of you and of me.

Are you saint then? You say that the satan has changed them
and you cast them with stones and you break their bones,
for they are digging graves, and they smile, laugh and they
when they're burying them alive and listening to their cry,
as it turns into howl and then turns into silence
and when the job is done, they're spitting on heir graves.
But you, are you saint then? Are you better than them,
would you be the one who would say no when asked
to say yes?

Would you hold your head high and be happy to die
for the truth and the freedom and justice?

Are you saint then? Why now
you won't blame anyone? Taking back what you've said,
chickening out.

I think about God,
and more I think about Him,
I know him less.

I sold my intimacy
for sake of publicity,
*** sells in democracy,
Lord Dollar, please set me free!

I see now - hipocrisy
takes over things I believed.

I'm naked, they look at me,
they buy me, they make me free,
but Freedom is what I seek.

Oh, Freedom is all I need
in times of Great Slavery,
when each day's a robbery.
I'm poorer than younger me,
I'm richer than older me.

I sold my intimacy
for sake of modernity
and shameless society
without any dignity.

My body's all they can see,
my body is all they need
to make them happy and free,

but, they, in reality
unhappy are, slaved for keeps,
so am I, and I can see
mistakes I've done, idiot me,
for sake of publicity,
I worship idiocracy,
****-riding pussocracy,
like war with Intimacy.

Half-naked girls in the street
and women ****** on the screen
by dumb masculinity.
Life-saving *******,
no, *******, you can't save me.

Where is my intimacy?
I've sold it, oh stupid me,
for sake of publicity,
*** sells in democracy.

This is the road I used to walk to school,
here's a shop, where I used to buy sweets,
and in this house, here, lived a girl I secretly loved.

This is my favourite cherry tree,
this is my house, my home,
and this is my mum, my dad,
my brother and my sister, happy times.  

I'm not in the picture, no, I'm not.
Why? Let's say because I... I was taking this shot.

Don't waste your time
on things you don't need to be happy.

This life is a journey back home.
Every second of your life
brings you closer to yourself.