But, I was there for them whenever they cried.
But they never have time for me..
Whenever I want to talk about my bad mood, they twist the fucking Subject, this so bad.
And...
When I look at my past,
I feel sick because it smells like shit, my past its dirty.
I hate my parents, they destroyed my childhood
And now, I'm lying on the bed and dreaming about kissing a girl, while in reality, I'm crying blood and I have a small smile on my face.