Blasphemous Rumours

Depeche Mode

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    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 blasphemous rumours
    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

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

    I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours
    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 blasphemous rumours
    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 blasphemous rumours
    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 blasphemous rumours
    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 blasphemous rumours
    But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
    And when I die, I expect to find Him laughing

    Song details

    Composition: Martin Gore

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