Lyrics Bleach Music - Direct Hit!

Bleach Music

I got a feeling that I can’t let go
All the parasites I can’t get rid of, I know
Using bleach’ll work, I’ll go real slow
Just pour a bit out on the grout, so white it’ll glow
Before I knew I’d spend a day
Hands and knees all bleeding on the floor in the same way
Everyone who sees me thinks that I’m insane
But they’re the kind who just distract me from the game I play
And I won’t stop living 'til I’m dead
Observation and complaining make me fucked up in the head
Oh you know they’re my hours and they’re not yours to spend?
My condition keeps you up at night
Just a minute, if you can’t wait, turn out the light
Got some work to do, not done 'til it’s right
By standard that I set that most consider too high
I’ve a question you can’t answer too:
Explain what makes your method better?
What makes me a fool?
Everyone who sees me thinks that I’m insane
I guess I just expect from you the same
And I won’t stop living 'til I’m dead
Observation and complaining make me fucked up in the head
Oh, you know, they’re hours and they’re not yours to spend
There’s an image in our head that we need made real
And we’ll clean, pick skin 'til we can’t quite feel
The burned, raw wounds from the cleaning we’ve done
Acid tends to fucking do that when it’s poured on someone
Excellence is best gained through your toil and pain
Not a whole lot anyone can say about it anyway
Clean and new’s the mean, and you are seen as who’s to blame
I got a feeling I’m already in hell
All the parasites are under my skin I can tell
Using bleach’ll work, I’ll go real slow
Just pour a bit 'til they crawl out, white as the snow
Before I knew I’d spent a day on hands and knees
All bleeding on the floor in the same way
Everyone who sees it knows that I’m insane
And I apologize, I’m too distracted by the game I play
There’s an image in our head that we need made real
And we’ll clean, pick skin 'til we can’t quite feel
The burned, raw wounds from the cleaning we’ve done
Acid tends to fucking do that when it’s poured on someone
Excellence is best gained through your toil and pain
Not a whole lot anyone can say about it anyway
Clean and new’s the mean, and you are seen as who’s to blame
And I won’t stop living 'til I’m dead
Observation and complaining make me fucked up in the head
Oh you know they’re my hours and they’re not yours to spend?