| You wanna make me sick;
|
| You wanna lick my wounds
|
| Don’t you, baby?
|
| You want the badge of honour when you save my hide
|
| But you’re the one in the way
|
| Of the day of doom, baby
|
| If you need my shame to reclaim your pride
|
| And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
|
| I never did anything to you, man
|
| But no matter what I try, you’ll beat me with your bitter lies
|
| So call me crazy, hold me down
|
| Make me cry; |
| get off now, baby
|
| It won’t be long till you’ll be lying limp in your own hands
|
| You feed the beast I have within me
|
| You wave the red flag, baby you make it run run run
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| Standing on the sidelines, waving and grinning
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| You fondle my trigger, then you blame my gun
|
| And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
|
| I never did anything to you, man
|
| But no matter what I try, you’ll beat me with your bitter lies
|
| So call me crazy, hold me down
|
| Make me cry; |
| get off now, baby
|
| It won’t be long till you’ll be lying limp in your own hands
|
| And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
|
| I never did anything to you, man
|
| But no matter what I try, you’ll beat me with your bitter lies
|
| So call me crazy, hold me down
|
| Make me cry; |
| get off now, baby
|
| It won’t be long till you’ll be lying limp in your own hands |