Shit, I've just slipped away, lost the lay, I've being gray.
Now should I dress ma pants off and care whatever they say.
Whatever they say, I'm keeping being slave. I'm keepin being same.
I'm slitting Ma fame. For living this day.
For the sake of do not stop in a middle as though blood
in Ma grandmum dranky heart after instant fart at one day.
And no one will got realy what I say.
Cold lands stroller who's, inside, fucking cry and shake.
They laugh and smile with happy behaviour trace on a face,
but don't know what is act till the shiver awakes.
How goes it on, and what is being called fake.
What is You friend acts like a pest instigating You on a prate.
as though he's latent sadist frankly.
So have I just slipped away, lost the lay, 'ave being gray.
Sure, for no way, I'm stray from the very borning day.
Cuz birth seventh month made me getting what should I bite trough for.