Stumble over hurdles it’s, (my generation)

The hurdles left for us by them, (that generation)

I’d love to see us guide the next, (young generation)

But something isn’t right within, (my generation)

Medicate, facilitate,

Diagnosed by marksmen,

Brains are stowaways and then

We pay with last breaths.

Don’t follow the hangmen,

Don’t follow the hangmen,

Hide the knives under your beds,

They’ll take your life with them.

Compartmentalise myself, (my generation)

Who are we without our necks, (my generation)

Pity them but guess we’re next, (my generation)

The ***, the cries, the sex, (my generation)

The fuckeries on the internet,

Keys break from vicious text,

Screens like armour strong defence,

Imagine face to face unrest.

Take sides against, divide and sell,

I’m alive if all can tell.

Trauma cries with pride and wealth,

It’s still loud inside your shell.

Not a chance we’ll give them hell,

Stuck inside outside as well.

It’s heating up in present tense,

But hide the words from mouths instead.

Say it to my fucking face then.

Say it to my fucking face then.

Say it to my fucking face then.

Say it to my fucking face.

My generation, my generation.

Say it to my fucking face then.

Say it to my fucking face then.

Say it to my fucking face then.

Say it to my fucking face then.