Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Psychopath, artist - Supersister. Album song Pudding En Gisteren, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 27.04.1972
Record label: Red bullet
Song language: English
Psychopath |
It is not strange to be a psychopath |
The world we’re living in goes straight to bath |
There is a reason to feel so alone |
When there’s every night a panther on your telephone |
It’s really hard today to find some truth |
There’s even acid in your apple juice |
I don’t think it’s too hard to understand |
There are people who don’t even trust a helping hand |
They prefer to drown in water in the drifting sand |
Some of them have already custard eyes |
They hide in alcohol or Jesus Christ |
And others grew completely out of bounds |
Now the festival of violence is all around |
And the cry of one’s despair is no more than a sound |
And the cry of one’s despair is no more than a sound |
It is not strange to get a heart attack |
Since we’ve got nothing like a tail to wag |
Why are frustrations keeping up inside |
Make the Dr. Jekyll’s change into the Mr. Hyde’s |
So many people feeling hook and eyed |
There is no law that makes it justified |
You cannot rise against the common herd |
'Cause the only thing that counts for them is yellow dirt |
It’s the fancy price of living in the gruesome world |
You took the chance to leave the beaten track |
You are unsticked at such a strange effect |
You’re feeling more than just a substitute |
So you better not fly too high in your selfish mood |
As you know you have been born without a parachute |
It is not strange to be a psychopath |
The world we’re living in goes straight to bath |
There is a reason to feel so alone |
When there’s every night a panther on your telephone |
It’s really hard today to find some truth |
There’s even acid in your apple juice |
I don’t think it’s too hard to understand |
There are people who don’t even trust a helping hand |
They prefer to drown in water in the drifting sand |
Some of them have already custard eyes |
They hide in alcohol or Jesus Christ |
And others grew completely out of bounds |
Now the festival of violence is all around |
And the cry of one’s despair is no more than a sound |
And the cry of one’s despair is no more than a sound |