I'm sick of this.

[waar]

It was the summer of 95
(so what?)
in the backyard
shaving the old plies
feeling so strong
something went wrong
straight into my finger
what a stinger it was so long I still remember
that day like the day that I said
that I swear
"i'll never hurt myself again"
but it seems that I'm deemed to be wrong
to be wrong
to be wrong
so I've got to keep holding on...
they always played a slow song when they come for me
I'll be sitting at my desk
with a gun in my hand
wearing a bulletproof vest
singing my my my
how the time does fly
when you know you're going to die
by the end of the night I still remember when
we were young and fragile then
no one gave a **** about us
because times were tougher then
feeling so good
cruising the hood
straight into the real world
rich kids never understood
but I don't care
I can fade away to anywhere
don't stop because you might get dropped
and if you do
who's going to pick you up
well I won't...
they always played a slow song