Choose your future.

Choose life.

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 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, sprit-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 that you spawned to replace yourself.

Choose your future.
Choose life.

I chose not to choose life.
I chose something else.

Choose your future.

Choose life.

Choose life.

Choose your future.

Choose life.

I chose something else.

Choose your future.

Choose your future.

Choose life.