Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her
Slashed her wrists, bored with life
Didn't succeed, thank the Lord
For small mercies

Fighting back the tears, mother reads the note again
Sixteen candles burn in her mind
She takes the blame, it's always the same
She goes down on her knees and prays

I don't want to start any [bad word] 
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing

I don't want to start any [bad word] 
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing

Girl of eighteen, fell in love with everything
Found new life in Jesus Christ
Hit by a car, ended up
On a life support machine

Summer's day, as she passed away
Birds were singing in the summer sky
Then came the rain, and once again
tear fell from her mother's eye

I don't want to start any [bad word] 
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing

I don't want to start any [bad word] 
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing

I don't want to start any [bad word] 
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing

I don't want to start any [bad word] 
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing

I don't want to start any [bad word] 
But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing

Девчонка шестнадцати лет, пред нею вся жизнь.
Но вены иссечены, истерзаны жизнью.
Не нужно благодарить
Бога за милосердье такое.

Со слезами борясь, мать читает молитвы опять
И шестнадцать свечей в ее сердце горят.
И вину как всегда, она, взяв на себя,
На колени падет помолиться.

Не хочу распускать богохульные слухи,
Но я думаю, что Бог – шутник еще тот.
И когда я умру, то скорее всего,
Он смеясь ко мне выйдет навстречу.

Восемнадцать девчонке,
И любовь, обретя ко всему,
Во Христе нашла новую жизнь.
Но машины удар и закончилось всё
Аппаратом искусственного дыхания.
Летний день был, с уходом ее
В небе птицы запели
И шел тихий дождь,
И однажды опять
Из глаз материнских скатилась слеза.

Не хочу распускать богохульные слухи,
Но я думаю, что Бог – шутник еще тот.
И когда я умру, то скорее всего,
Он смеясь ко мне выйдет навстречу.