Set out to name, All the unborn children the clinic claimed, Lending my hand to St. Peter, To help him sort them out at the pearly gates. And i dont know what its like, But ill make a good guess, I bet its feilds of flowers, Tree forts, sleepovers and swing sets. And if you had been born, I would have been such a good dad, Would have never raised my voice, Would have never raised my hand, And on your wedding day, I would have stood so proud, But she gave you to god, And im stuck here in hell. Oh Maybe its better this way, No more sufering and pain. Oh Maybe its better this way, No more sufering and pain.