And all the kids cried out,
**** us now.
Put the gun to our heads,
**** this game they play.
I’m not meant to be alive.

Take that thought and splatter it across the canvass, shoot the paper with your make believe gun. Ink the paper with your suicide heaven, you’ve got something worth living for and it’s sitting inside your room. It’s you.

And all the kids called out,
Somebody save me,
I’m so worthless,
I need answers,
**** this God above,
I’m not meant to be alive.

Tell your demons that the music in your ears will overpower their beliefs, now dance to the sound of your beating heart, celebrate that sound. Don’t ever let it go.

And all the kids cried out,
**** us now.
Put the gun to our heads,
**** this game they play.
I’m not meant to be alive