Something preys on the souls of the ******.
It marches fourth this sickness at hand.
When your born its to late your gonna die.
As they throw flowers on your grave to cry.
Its hateful world we try to love.
But it all ends once push comes to shove.
We all had wishes, sometimes they came true.
But it's the devils work painted in a blue.
I know you don't belive what I say.
So go ahead pray for a better day.
It will only come for some.
The ones that killed themselves young.