| Out of the woodwork keeping hidden where they hide
|
| Par for the course the highest horse on which they ride
|
| The devil’s grin, illness is in so claim your prize
|
| Without the facts on track samaratism dies
|
| I’ve got this chronic fever
|
| You’ll cure me non-believers
|
| Still ill and rehabilitated
|
| By those sick enough to have created
|
| Symbols of sanity decreasing year by year
|
| Inflated vanity you learn to hold so dear
|
| Opposite, synonymous, withholding every truth
|
| I live to tell the tale for I am living proof
|
| Rats
|
| They’re living in the infirmary
|
| Rats
|
| And they’ve been crawling all over me
|
| Rats
|
| We feed them in the infirmary
|
| Rats
|
| And they’ve been crawling all over me
|
| We’re just part of the smallest fraction
|
| Not worthy of any reaction
|
| Without a clue you’re over medicated
|
| By those sick enough to have created
|
| I’m not a stranger to the threat of every modern day
|
| Never got the facts on track and time will win this race
|
| Each tragic accident there’s a hero in its place
|
| Your good intention for attention is gaining praise
|
| Rats
|
| They’re living in the infirmary
|
| Rats
|
| And they’ve been crawling all over me
|
| Rats
|
| We feed them in the infirmary
|
| Rats
|
| And they’ve been crawling all over me |