You're sixteen, you're beautiful
I like you better as pitiful
I'll give you a bomb we call hate
But deal no fate but what we make
Tell the masses but not your son
Rake the grasses, mow the lawn
Drinking, dancing, smoking grass
Reckless living and pushing ass
Ignorance is bliss they say
Tired of waiting, come what may
Stripped my soul, pride and lust
And carrying this fucking cross
Things that have yet to come
Just might carry a pretty ransom
Anedonia keeps me mostly sane
Until the things that cause the rain
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