| It is not strange to be a psychopath
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| The world we’re living in goes straight to bath
|
| There is a reason to feel so alone
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| When there’s every night a panther on your telephone
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| It’s really hard today to find some truth
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| There’s even acid in your apple juice
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| I don’t think it’s too hard to understand
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| There are people who don’t even trust a helping hand
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| They prefer to drown in water in the drifting sand
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| Some of them have already custard eyes
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| They hide in alcohol or Jesus Christ
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| And others grew completely out of bounds
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| Now the festival of violence is all around
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| And the cry of one’s despair is no more than a sound
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| And the cry of one’s despair is no more than a sound
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| It is not strange to get a heart attack
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| Since we’ve got nothing like a tail to wag
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| Why are frustrations keeping up inside
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| Make the Dr. Jekyll’s change into the Mr. Hyde’s
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| So many people feeling hook and eyed
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| There is no law that makes it justified
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| You cannot rise against the common herd
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| 'Cause the only thing that counts for them is yellow dirt
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| It’s the fancy price of living in the gruesome world
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| You took the chance to leave the beaten track
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| You are unsticked at such a strange effect
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| You’re feeling more than just a substitute
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| So you better not fly too high in your selfish mood
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| 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 |