Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Angelic Boy, artist - R.A. The Rugged Man. Album song All My Heroes Are Dead, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.04.2020
Record label: Nature Sounds
Song language: English
Angelic Boy |
I-I don’t… I don’t know what I’m gonna do anymore… |
I’m gonna kill… them |
I’m 15, my name’s Johnny, they say that I’m a sociopath |
Cuz I kill squirrels and birds for a hobby |
I build backyard bombs, I can teach ya |
Aluminum foil and hydrochloric acid from toilet bowl cleaner |
Basically girls don’t date me, teachers hate me |
I’m a pimpled faced loser, been picked on since grade 3 |
Called enough names, makin' chump change, my blood rains |
I wanna punch brains, I wanna cut veins and blow up planes |
My sister, she’s a known whore, I hate my family |
My dad is a cop, that fat pig just don’t understand me |
Fuck all the slutty loose hoes and cyber bullies and rube trolls |
And rich kids in school makin' fun of my school clothes |
Cryin' inside, dyin' inside and my mind is torture |
I been diagnosed with more than just an anxiety disorder |
Every dream I have shattered, everything dramatic, traumatic |
The pain tragic, I wanna be dead, I wanna lay in traffic |
Is my brain damaged? |
I was raised catholic |
I prayed in the cathedral of St. Patrick but I’m hated in my age bracket |
The kids in the school call me a gay faggot |
Mental, I’m deadly, I’m ready |
I’ma make 'em remember my name and they won’t ever forget me |
Johnny |
I’m-I'm-I'm 15 |
I wanna be somebody |
My name’s Johnny |
They’ll remember me |
My mother love me, she’s the only one that didn’t judge me |
I pledge allegiance to my dick, I hate this fuckin' country |
They can die and kiss my dick, piss on the flag, spit on a fag |
Fuck any bitch pig with a badge, I’m pissed like a bitch on the rag |
I head to a gun-free zone, an ice cream parlor |
They’ll put me on Rolling Stone covers like the Boston bomber |
Looks like a Norman Rockwell, All-American, nice scene |
I walk in and see kids with their parents, eatin' ice cream |
Innocent children smilin', I can’t stand 'em like roaches |
I got a semi-auto handgun and a bag of explosives |
Sweat drippin', I’m shakin', the trigger, fuck it, I touch it |
The gun goes off, I hit a 6-year-old boy in his stomach |
He’s crying, his mother’s screamin', she and the little baby on the floor |
bleedin', ain’t nobody leavin', it’s time to get even |
I start shooting, blood splatters on the curtain fabric |
I feel like I’m high on acid |
As the gunpowder explodes in slow mo, the gun flashes |
I’m blackin' out, I see children fallin' and blood splashes |
Blood on my eyeglasses, die bastards! |
Gun, cock it, I’m steppin' in my own vomit |
I can’t believe I’m doin' this, it’s too late, I’m all-in, I can’t stop it |
A disgrace livin', I’m hate-driven, I see a little girl dyin' on the floor |
And a boy with his face missin' |
I keep firin', a pregnant mother gets hit, customers trippin' |
Over bodies runnin' towards the doors of the exit |
I hear police sirens, I see the cops surrounded me |
I notice a hole in my chest and blood flowin' outta me |
Vision blurry, I’m frozen, bullets in my body explodin' |
Blood and sweat soakin', feces and urine in my clothing |
Bullet flies through my cheek, a bullet hit my neck, my neck broken |
Vomit coming from my mouth, I’m spitting up blood, chokin' |
I see flowers growin', I feel like I’m floatin' |
I see my casket closin' and hear the voices of tortured souls moanin' |
Like this |
I’m 15 |
My name’s Johnny |
I’ll make 'em remember my name |
The message: Cause some bodily harmin' |
And become a master of murder and arson |
And you could be the media’s personal darlin' |
They call blacks, thugs, and Muslims terrorists |
But I’m white, so they say I could’ve been cured by medication and therapists |
They blame Facebook, blame video games, they blame the pain |
They blame the gun owners, they blame the bullies |
It’s a blame game |
Blame the opposing politician’s policies, but wait a minute |
They blame parents, everybody but me |
I’m the one that did it |
The conspiracy theorists and every Alex Jones fan |
Is claimin' I was part of a CIA mind control program |
I got what I wanted, attention, fame, I’m on TV |
No one cares about the names of the victims or their family |
I’m the super star, the ratings booster, I’m media friendly |
And all the glorification is helpin' to create the next me |