Testo Back-Street Abortion

I'm not sad about you I'm not at liberty to come to know you Parents that couldn't love you They couldn't have care about you Brothers that couldn't look down at you They couldn't have mount guard on you I never get to know your name Would you have become a boy? Would you have become a girl? Oh, what a tragedy There's no grave I could care To feel your spirit that tries to put on human shape There's no sorry for your cleansing Grousing in a bin you pal up with a peal Oh, my little bruv Oh, my little sis Oh, what a tragedy