one fine day, youíre going to burn.
i almost hope iím there
beside you, laughing as you
beg for the mercy you never gave.
fat with wealth, with pride and greed,
your only virtue is the
privilege with which you were
expelled from your mother.
think youíre doing fine, long as
youíve got your house in the hills.
look down, think harder.
all you've got is more room to fall.
dumb shit, iím waiting for you
down here, watching while
your own weight drags you,
whimpering, to me.
and while you die, iíll ask you
what gave you the right, why were
you so entitled to what you had?
fucker, you got what you had coming.
back to songs frites home to hellhed