Вершы: Screeching Weasel. My Brain Hurts. What We Hate.

There isn't destiny
The way things go
I don't think so

The changes that alter us
Are a product of our own volition
And we become what we hate

It's not hard to figure out
That you're scared when
You act so much better

You're holding onto
Something we can't have

But hands still circle
You're still getting old
And we become what we hate

Do you believe in the lies
That shape your world
Do you believe in your own fictitious immortality

The world won't end
While you walk the earth
And when you realize that your life don't matter
You'll turn to something to help

You forget that
You're only young once
Old forever