drugs they said.
blame it on the drugs why don't you?
nothing to do with us.
nothing to do with the way you ignored his crying in the night.
nothing to do with the way you ignored the scars on his wrists,
and his countless attempts to make you see...
no. nothing to do with us...

needles they said.
left on the floor where they found him.
just another junkie.
who gives a fuck if he had feelings too?
who gives a fuck if he hated everything he became,
and everything he felt for those needles?...
who cares? it's just another junkie...

blood they said.
it was bound to happen sooner or later.
there goes another teen angst kid,
one more won't make a difference.
one more slit on that delicate wrist didn't matter.
he was gone inside his head anyway...
just another teen angst kid...

suicide they said.
nothing we could have done to help him.
he wouldn't have listened anyway.
too lost in his own little world to see us.
too lost for us to find him - even if we'd wanted to...
they're all the same that lot are...
nothing we could have done...

nothing to do with us...