Life’s shit and then you die.
I packed my stuff, suitcase in hand,
Traveling all the way down.
I’m anxious, out of the ordinary. I am seeing all colors.
Yellow, green, red, but definitely not brown.
We were running late
But nevertheless on a romantic date
Hand in hand walking to work
Monday, new week, clean slate
Birds sjirping, spring in…
A suitcase or tree, a bomb and a detonator in hand
The smell of fear is in the air
I need to get out of here.
Right before the click,
I feel they are terrified,
I’ll go first, I’m not afraid
Time for my final hit