I've met men
who would rather climb mountains
then raise families
they spill lies like fountains
time and time again
This is insanity
I've met mothers
Who would trade their children
For another high
Painted as they are, villains
But they still ask “why?”
As they dump it on their brothers
I’ve met parents
who don't let their kids cry
And they grow up mad
at themselves
At society
But deep down, they're sad
packing problems away on shelves
And it grows, anxiety
They try to down in Barents