I struggle to be a nice girl: the worst choice of my life,
Man I am not good with all this life,
Working like a fool, join the 'army of the great for my money,
God... I just had to make it harder for myself!
Here, I am again complaining.

Hard to appreciate everything I have,
Easy ways are always leading one to hard
Times of imprisonment...

Now what my image happened with this soul of mine?
And what my image happens with this shell of mine...
Caring, not caring... training for that better life!

Down the streets people still walk and live and talk
And crave for their more.
Up, in the bed, on their chairs and those grounds
They have chosen,
Chosen each soul...
_ Careful to not upset (too much) your own saviour _
People still live...
A pleasant touch of ignorance: bliss for my impotence to **** them all
And sentence them to heaven, once and for all.