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Description
I think I made myself sick
the heart in my chest beats quick
I can't even feel the times
when blood's not bursting through lines
of veins beneath my skin
something's wrong deep within
I try to scream, but what for?
I can't even talk anymore
something must be wrong with me
I open my eyes, but why? I can't see
I try to stand up
but quickly give up
because my legs don't work anymore
they lay next to me, in my puddle of life
on this cold and dirty floor
I'm about to give in
to die full of sin
and leave this floor space for another
as I breathe my last breath
and get ready for death
in my head, I call for my mother
and when I wake up, shaking with fear
I turn to the radio and hear
Good morning, it's eight
the weather, it's great
and here's a song you'll enjoy
it's called live again
it's about to begin
so get off the floor little boy

Description
I think I made myself sick
the heart in my chest beats quick
I can't even feel the times
when blood's not bursting through lines
of veins beneath my skin
something's wrong deep within
I try to scream, but what for?
I can't even talk anymore
something must be wrong with me
I open my eyes, but why? I can't see
I try to stand up
but quickly give up
because my legs don't work anymore
they lay next to me, in my puddle of life
on this cold and dirty floor
I'm about to give in
to die full of sin
and leave this floor space for another
as I breathe my last breath
and get ready for death
in my head, I call for my mother
and when I wake up, shaking with fear
I turn to the radio and hear
Good morning, it's eight
the weather, it's great
and here's a song you'll enjoy
it's called live again
it's about to begin
so get off the floor little boy