On me There's a button They've ticket the goods, They've labeled the luggage. They sent me here, To a sterile, white Waiting room. Not only i know I contain a ticking bomb.
They say The word. They know The word is the code. - He oughta handle it. Oh, I explode into pieces. Do i care? My dismal lifework.
Who am i ? What have i done? I've lost my self again. I've punished the good, The innocent, my beloved, My liberator, my saviour.
I know the situation. I realize my deeds. Blowing off the bomb Was lengthening Way out of hell. Now who am i Deserving mercy now. Done is done. Perhaps i need another bomb.