| 2055 |
Mistress of perversity unwilling tool of other's lust, witnessing abnormality with no one left to trust. |
Kreator, |
Twisted Urges |
| 2056 |
Mommy, I'm not an abortion. |
Sex Pistols, |
Bodies |
| 2057 |
Most of you don't give a shit that your daughters are porno stars. |
Staind, |
Open Your Eyes |
| 2058 |
Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why you had to hide away for so long. Where did we go wrong? |
Electric Light Orchestra, |
Mr. Blue Sky |
| 2059 |
Multiply your death, divide by sex, add up your violence, what do you get? |
Marilyn Manson, |
Burning Flag |
| 2060 |
My bitter hands grate on broken glass of what was everything. All the pictures have all been washed in black, tatooed everything. |
Pearl Jam, |
Black |
| 2061 |
My daddy gave me a name, then he walked away. |
Everclear, |
Father Of Mine |
| 2062 |
My hardened eyes see only shades of gray. |
Biohazard, |
Shades of Gray |
| 2063 |
My head was spinning, I had never seen blood. Four years old, this don't feel like love. |
L.L. Cool J, |
Father |
| 2064 |
My idea of love comes from a childhood glimpse of pornography. |
Manic Street Preachers, |
Life Becoming A Landslide |
| 2065 |
My life is violent, but violent is life. Peace is a dream, reality is a knife. |
Ice-T, |
Vengeance |
| 2066 |
My role model sips on a forty bottle, in his footsteps I follow. |
The Geto Boys, |
Blind Leading The Blind |
| 2067 |
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip, my toes to numb to step, wait only for my boot heels to be wandering. |
Bob Dylan; Byrds, |
Mr. Tambourine Man |
| 2068 |
My soul is lost, my friend, tell me how do I begin again? My city's in ruins, my city's in ruins. |
Bruce Springsteen, |
My City's In Ruins |
| 2069 |
My world is a flood, slowly I become one with the mud. |
Jars of Clay, |
Flood |
| 2070 |
Natural fact is, I can't pay my taxes. Make me wanna holler and throw up on my hands. |
Marvin Gaye, |
Inner City Blues |
| 2071 |
Need to bring back the old days when I was in control of my life. |
Taproot, |
Again And Again |
| 2072 |
Never seem to find the time. Plans that either come to naught, or half a page of scribbled lines. |
Pink Floyd, |
Time |
| 2073 |
Niggas wanna hijack the flyness. |
Jay-Z/Outkast, |
Flip Flop Rock |
| 2074 |
No direction toward a goal of something meaningful and right. It's no wonder the kids are angry, violent, uneducated, alone, wasted, waiting, unchallenged, bored. |
Grey Cell Green, |
Something Stupid |