(Depeche Mode)

Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her - Slashed her wrists, bored with life - Didnt 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, its always the same
She goes down on her knees and prays

I dont 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

Summers day, as she passed away - Birds were singing in the summer sky - Then came the rain, and once again - A tear fell from her mothers eye

I dont 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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