 |
|
|
|
|
(Originally appeared on "Super Mario Bros." soundtrack)
Making some holes for the needle to find,
.... and just let it slide.
You try to find you inside of me,
Be as great as you want me to be.
Hypocrit, the word that fits,
Do as you say not as you do.
You're pushing me to a breakpoint,
Pushing me, push,
Push me to a breakpoint.
Self-esteem you seem to lack,
You point your finger, three pointing back.
So's the illusion of old golden dance,
Evil's contagious and life ain't that fair.
Criticists, the word that fits, Put me down to lift you up.
You're pushing me to a breakpoint,
Pushing me, push,
Push me to a breakpoint.
Once in pain, the only pleasure,
Fascination, this sick disaster.
Suffering since you were born,
Mess with the bull you'll get the horn.
Misery, the word that fits,
Times are good when times are bad.
You're pushing me to a breakpoint,
You're pushing me, Pushing me, To a breakpoint.
In my opinion as a professional,
I recommend we straight-jacket the son of a bitch,
Lock him in a rubber room, Sedate him, Heavily,
And when he wakes up, if he wakes up,
We'll see if he can be a nice boy.
Sedate me? Ha, cool! Straight jacket? Hey! Hey! Let go of me! Hey!...
Breakpoint, You push me to a breakpoint.
Breakpoint, You push me to a breakpoint.
Breakpoint, Don't push me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
