Scarsick

Sick It's all sick I feel sick, I'll be sick then it's fine, I'm conform To your norm with a bucket full of me, I'll be free Finally I will see what you mean with your freedom This world you call home, not alone, happy drone Won't be sick of these cars, all these codes and these bars All the sickening scars, I'll believe in the way Of the stripes and the superstars I will fall in line and obey 'cause the price is so small Almost nothing at all if I'm just losing me Then the ideals and truths will follow naturally Happily I will settle for your conformative apathy If I could just get rid of this Unsettling, uncomfortable Unbedable, bucket of insight and honesty This sick, sick, sick bucket of reality But you see: this sick will stick 'Cause it's me It's me Step into the dark age of treason Today the only voice of reason Would have to be the sound Of the soup of the season hitting ground Hitting ground... Sick Felling sickened by this fucking travesty Is just a sign of sanity, you're not alone And every time that you hurt, every cut Every scar and every time you just hate Everything that you are it is simply the instinct to flee To escape from this mess, this continuous rape of what's true And what's real so you gnaw at your paw To get out of the trap Of the cage, of our time, all that rage Is your struggle to survive, they think you wanna die When in truth you just strive biting every hand just to stay alive But can you hear the sound in you ear Growing louder and louder, the whole world around you A pounding and grinding that tells you that You're not alone, it's the sound of Thousands and thousands of vixen teeth Hitting bone Step into the dark age of treason Today the only voice of reason Would have to be the sound Of the soup of the season Hitting ground Sick Of these bars and theses cars I feel sick You are making me sick So sick You are making me sick It's all sick We're all sick, you are making me sick Soup of the season hitting ground