6 wooden reserved land pieces, come sit, dine and whine about your stupid lies.
We are not leis, we are lies sewn together.
And a laughter might hurt more, cause all what is said is more nice than in real.
The pain behind ever thing can only be seen through a poets heart.
Nice and easy to let the blame crawl on others shoulders,
But oh, it hurts so bad, and feels oh so more bad,
Family just in name,
Family just in fame.