Aft' the music builds up,
The destruction of one's very own name,
How's that for a wassup?
An existence outside of reality,
Is there e'en such a thing?
If there ain't, then there's a whole bunch of time,
That is being murdered by the living,
Just to play and share learning with others,
Is that really so bad,
To leave this world of deceit and hatred,
According to your dad?
Did he say that?
No, I don't think he did,
Of course, it was hard to understand him,
Through his sobs for the dearly departed.