Chronic - R.I.P. (Part IV)

Our Kid, now you're gone, and they just weep,
no-one understood the secrets you keep.
The lonely empty lives will never come into sight,
will never go into your brain,
seconds in time in the pass of pain.

Embrace your brother, dance in grace,
noticing a strange look upon your face.
Death is a dance in hell below,
an extension of total freedom to go.

Strange child shying away from normality,
hope you'll be happy now you're free.

Written by:
Andy Ashton, Mark Ashton

Publisher:
Lyrics © Apathy Products

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