Social Flop - Mad Sin

Your father is a wino and your mummy is on pills

Your sister sells her body to men who need cheap thrills

Mum lives in a madhouse and daddy’s got no job

Your brother is a junkie, just another flop

You’re on the highway to hell thousand miles per hour

Straight into your grave, it couldn’t get rawer

You’re on the highway to hell thousand miles per hour

Society calls you: social flop — mad boys, mad girls

You’re under a curse that’s what you think

To escape the fucking problems you cut a few more lines

They gave you a set of rules that you can’t take

Your life turned into a horror flic, too late to use the brake