I am selfish, I am wicked   I am indeed one of your sons   I have fell for all the tricks you pull   And done everything wrong      I am hateful, I am jealous   I am sad and weak and dumb   I have given into my darkness   And turned on everyone      I am not grateful for the good things   'Cause I know that they are fake   And if I were to love them   You would come and take them away      I don't believe in love    And I don't believe in you   I hate God and the president   And myself too      If I ever make it through your gates   You better run, you better run away   'Cause I'm gonna break    Every bone in your face      You should be proud because    You taught me everything I know about bein' cold,    About bein' cruel, about bein' mean   Apples are apples on the ground or on the tree