Unwanted brat on the street
Had him incinerated
A sigh of shame from a piece of faceless fascist
Going out on a Sunday
You think it’s wiser to truncate
Bigger things will come our way
On my shame
He’s carving out on his stillness
You only pry into ses
Of all the roads that he chose the dead end was his best
Strolling out on a Sunday
You never cared to abandon
Bigger things will come our way
On your shame