I have been there again My bare feet caked with mud Stench of the grave rising from my aching groin I have been to her again I have been in her again
Dead Stiff and cold In your box To decay Dead
sound of laughter inside your head Don't you wish you were born dead The sound of laughter inside your head Makes you wish you were born dead Born dead
You must philosophise But why must you bore me to tears? You're red around the eyes You tell me things no one else hears You spend all your time
