Tekster: The Distillers. Sick Of It All.

Murder, murder, a ripe blood stain
Pulled the fucking trigger 'cause I'm sick of it all
Murder, murder, a ripe fucking hate
Pulled the fucking trigger 'cause I'm sick of it all

I went to school today with an oozi
There's this kid, he teased me
So, I shot him in the face
All the world's light won't ease my pain

It won't cease, I'm diseased
Will you hang me please?
I'm a nihilist, raised on violence
What do I do?

I'm American youth
All my life I've lived in silence
I'm gonna snap, I'll get you back shit

I'm a girl, I'm only thirteen
My body rots 'cause I won't fucking eat
I'm a silent star on the b-roll
I'm a mirror fucking image of no control

Give me an award, I conquered food again
What else is better in life than to purge my pain?
If I cut, I won't look like that, if I cut
If I cut, I won't feel like this shit

We are kids, we think life is a scam
We come from a wasted land
We are kids we play punk rock 'n roll
If we didn't we got no soul

We are different kids with the same heartbeat
We got one pulse running through the streets
They are our arteries

We are different kids with the same heartbeat
We got one pulse running through the streets
I am a part of this

We are kids, we think life is a scam
We come from a wasted land
We are kids we play punk rock 'n roll
If we didn't we got no soul