We are a generation that's suicidal.
Fell through the cracks.
Depression that hacks, stacks, attacks. Eventually leaving tracks.
Like a giant tower.
You'll never know how to grow a pretty flower.
Because this generation is dead.
All the bullahit's already been said.
But I still get up out of my bed.
Still try to use my head.
Where will I be lead?
Still waiting patiently for it to unfold.
A brand new day.
One that's a million miles away.
Time for me to say.
I love you all and have a nice stay.
Do not delay.
Hear yourself say yay.
I'm alive today.
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