your father is a wino and your mummy is on pills your sister sells her body to men who need cheap thrills mum lives in a madhouse and daddy's got no job your brother is a junkie, just another flop you're on the highway to hell thousand miles per hour straight into your grave, it couldn't get rawer you're on the highway to hell thousand miles per hour society calls you: social flop - mad boys, mad girls you're under a curse that's what you think to escape the f**ing problems you cut a few more lines they gave you a set of rules that you cant take your life turned into a horror flic, too late to use the brake