I like it    I don't like it

Girl of sixteen

Whole life ahead of her

Slashed her wrists

Bored with life

Didn't succeed

Thank the Lord

For small mercies

Fighting back the tears

Mother reads the note again

Sixteen candles burn in her mind

She takes the blame

It's always the same

She goes down on her knees and prays

I don't want to start

Any blasphemous rumours

But I think that God's

Got a sick sense of humor

And when I die

I expect to find Him laughing

Girl of eighteen

Fell in love with everything

Found new life

In Jesus Christ

Hit by a car

Ended up

On a life support machine

Summer's day

As she passed away

Birds were singing

In the summer sky

Then came the rain

And once again

A tear fell

From her mother's eye

I don't want to start

Any blasphemous rumours

But I think that God's

Got a sick sense of humor

And when I die

I expect to find Him laughing