I blame myself for your demise.
If I could, I would carry your plagued prize.

You're broken digging yourself into a dark dark pit.
But how can you get up when in this world you don't seem to fit?

You're broken and sad, but you got no glue.
You're so fucked up, you don't even have a clue..

I see you sad and lonely, fuck! This is madness.
A pretty flower, a thornless rose
Not fit for a pit or the abyss below.
Please let me help you, becouse I can't bear to see this sadness.

I offer a helping hand, becouse you seem to be stuck.
Why can't you come back? Why can't you get up?

Should I really give up? .......Seriously, what the fuck?


Ja, jag vet att min handstil är ful och att jag stavat fel, stäm mig.