Incubator - You (The Death Ballad)

Psycholic feeling
Sorrow of society
Who made these world?
Destruction of me leads
In deep depressions
You left me help my will
I am just too young
Why must I go?
Get out of me
I want to change my ways
You
Made me higher
You Treated me as your son
You
Reality turns to dust
I know reality turns to dust
And now I left my way
A dessert of ice
Where am I - am I a fool?
Or just a child
Now find my way
I'll go...
Good bye my world
Good bye!