Choose life, choose a job, choose a career Choose a family, choose a fucking big television Choose washing machines, cars Compact disc players and electrical tin openers Choose leisurewear and matching luggage Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics Choose DIY and wondering who the fucking you are on a Sunday morning Choose siting on that couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows Stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth Choose rotting away at the end of it all Pissing your last in a miserable home Nothing more than an embarrasment to the selfish fucking brats That you spawned to replace yourself Choose your future, choose life I chose not to choose life, I chose something else And the reasons There are no reasons Who needs reasons When you've got heroin?