Track byDepeche Mode
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 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 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