Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life. But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life: I chose something else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got Heroin.
This is my church This is where I heal my hurts It's a natural grace Of watching young life shape It's in minor keys Solutions and remedies Enemies becoming friends When bitterness ends This is my church This is my church This is where I heal my hurts It's in the world I become Contained in the hum Between voice and drum It's in the change The poetic justice of cause and effect Respect, love, compassion This is my church This is where I heal my hurts For tonight God is a DJ God is a DJ This is my church