Confessions Of A Suicide Advocate - Tragedy

Born to the sound of gunshot fire

Shells scatter the floor

And in the distance there’s the chiming of bells

From empty churches where no one worships anymore

And the feeling in the air is a feeling of war

You can die in their hands but not of your own

They declared it while we slept on nightmares of death deprivation

Unable to put an end to this painful ringing in the ears that hear nothing

We can’t hear nothing

But propaganda and commercials, sermons and machine gun fire

Loaded and cocked, the guns in our hands

Serving only one function

Only one function

And suicide is not an option: it’s illegal and punishable by death

Suicide’s not an option