of what's on our menu As they pick up the scent they grow violent And they stampede to the feast No matter where you're at, you're in their habitat And
Why do people sell their souls away Just to ride the horse another day They're all slaves to the heroin But it's a war they'll never win They'll never
I've been on tender-hooks ending in dirty looks Listening to the muzak, thinking 'bout this 'n' that She says that's that, I don't wanna chitter chat
I'm feeling so tired can't understand it Just had a fortnight sleep I'm feeling so tired, oh, so distracted Ain't touched a thing all week I'm feeling
You know that you never gave me a chance to prove myself And I never thought that my life was worth your wealth You never said to me anything encouraging
Got out of bed about 3 PM thought it was a holiday Then my boss called just to tell me I'm late and he's giving my job away Well I took me a walk to the
Good Samaritans are something I can't stand Suppressing their own needs to lend a helping hand Looking out for number one is my only creed Self-preservation
Let me paint you a portrait of a man whose very name would define in times to come all things profane Born unto privilege child of aristocracy, so tender
Tradução: Éxodo. Fuerza de la costumbre.