Lyrics-Copy

Cynical skin

by Get Scared


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 gettin´ 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!





 

Random :
© 2016 Lyrics-Copy .com