My god forgot about me. I found him in my backyard, buried. He was just trying to get some sleep. Died for me once and now his hands are too weak. My friends and family gave up on me. I'll always be the black sheep. They love their god more than they love me. They said I'm just bitter, broken and weak They found me pa**ed out in the yard again. I've been wandering around and doing some thinking. If all I've made has gone to waste, bury me with my old hands and this human race