Depeche ModeBlasphemous Rumours

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 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 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 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
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