You think you’ve got a hold of it all
You haven’t got a hold at all
When you reach the top, get ready to drop
Prepare yourself for the fall, you’re gonna fall
It’s almost predictable
Don’t take this way, don’t take that way
Straight down the middle until next thursday
Push to the left, back to the right
Twist and turn ’til you’ve got it right
Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her
Slashed her wrists, bored with life
Didn’t succeed, thank the lord
For small mercies
Fighting back the tears, mother reads the note again
Sixteen candles burn in her mind
She takes the blame, it’s always the same
She goes down on her knees and prays
I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that god’s got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find him laughing
Girl of eighteen, fell in love with everything
Found new life in jesus christ
Hit by a car, ended up
On a life support machine
Summer’s day, as she passed away
Birds were singing in the summer sky
Then came the rain, and once again
A tear fell from her mother’s eye
I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that god’s got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find him laughing