Over-run by Christian perfectionists, all I can think of is ***,
Someone please save me from myself, save me from this hell,
Let me be different or chop them off, I won't be needing them,
I'll just make them go away and disappear, I'll need a knife as well.

My short and useless life will be over soon anyway,
I was certainly given enough guilt I can not hide,
No one will want to be my friend, not day to day,
Not if I'm the one that's got to be the eccentric "lie."

In the end the rest of us are stuck in this abyss,
The one where it's an evil thought to let nature grow,
Allow her to flourish (and why should we let her live?)
To be the one to sew the seeds, but we will never know.

It's a tricky path I'd rather have never been put on,
When I was a kid I thought everything was fine,
Then I grew up and found out I was different,
My train is on the tracks, I'll never make it on time.

And so I ask the world to answer, everyone just laughs,
They tell me I'm going to need to move out of the country,
I'd give anything to leave, but there's no clear set path,
Maybe I should have been born into a different family?

So my friends wish me well, my unborn children already dead,
I don't want to be this way, carry on and sewn shut in tears of red,
I'll be back again to ask for help and they will all just cringe,
I guess they've made certain that I shall be the "embodiment of sin."