How can something so cliché, and something so pathetic, something so deadly be regarded as a weapon? When my mom makes a joke, and daddy ever nod, it's a picture of death as the rain falls down. Woah, you shoot up, you die, you shoot up, you die. Woah, I'll follow the security until you die. You die inside. Another paper, another shot. What's the rush, what's the risk? *** no, it's not. Our generation should be sworn not to know. The switch, the gun, your life, you blow. Woah, you shoot up, you die, you shoot up, you die. Woah, I'll follow the security until you die. And now it's too late to change your mind. Your life is at stake. You fill it up with smack. Too much one night and you end up on your back. You say you don't care. You're not afraid of dying. Now you're on a run for your life. Now you're on a run for your life. Woah, and now it's too late to change your mind. Woah, and now it's too late to change your mind.