Lyrics Cynical Skin - Get Scared

Cynical Skin

Talk candy in my ear.
Come on, come on.
I want your toxic, talk sick baby.
I know those gospel lips can change me.
Look to the right of me, okay?
We got Exhibit A;
She, she ain’t okay today.
And to the left, the left of me,
We got Exhibit B;
Oh, she’s a mess to say the least.
She’s got her daddy’s money, money, money.
Honey, I think you should run.
(I think you should run.)
Look, oh, look around.
You’re lost but never found, no.
Six feet below the ground,
Where you avoid your problems.
Look right in front of me.
We got Exhibit C;
Anorexic, obsessed with magazines.
And when I look over here,
Oh my god, that’s me in the mirror.
No, no, no, ladies and gentlemen,
This is my fear — my eyes and ears.
Honey, I think you should run, run.
Look, oh, look around.
You’re lost but never found, no.
Six feet below the ground,
Where you avoid your problems.
Look, oh, look around.
You’re lost but never found, no.
Six feet below the ground,
Where you will never solve them.
I know you don’t wanna hear this, but just listen…
The last contendent.
Bad for us, bad for you.
This capillary root
Could root up All the little
Puzzle pieces
Of what you’ve been through.
Your hair all up in knots.
Don’t ever say you’re not
Oh, just a nothin',
'Cause I swear downstairs you’re somethin'.
Egotistic, cynical.
I’m getting out of control,
Out of control,
Out of control.
Look, oh, look around.
You’re lost but never found, no.
Six feet below the ground,
Where you avoid your problems.
Look, oh, look around.
You’re lost but never found, no.
Six feet below the ground,
Where you will never solve them.
Look, oh, look around.
You’re lost but never found, no.
Six feet below the ground,
Where you avoid your problems.
Out of control.
I’ve got control!