Just blowing my harp and Riding the blues away...
Something Wikked this way comes...

Yeah, I get it,
You're an outcast.
Always under attack.
Always coming in last,
Bringing up the past.
No one owes you anything.
I think you need a shotgun blast,
A kick in the ass,
So paranoid...
Watch your back!
Oh my, here we go...
Another lose cannon gone bi-polar
Slipped down, couldn't get much lower.
Quicksand's got no sense of humor.
I'm still laughing like hell.
You think that the cryin to me,
Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,
You've been infected by a social disease.
Well, then take your medicine.
[Chorus]
I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,
To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?
I'm so sick of this tombstone mentality,
If there's an afterlife,
Then it'll set you free.
But I'm not gonna part the seas
You're a self-fulfilling prophecy.
You think that cryin to me,
Looking so sorry that I'm gonna believe,
You've been infected by a social disease.
Well, then take your medicine.
[Chorus]
I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,
To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?
I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,
To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up...
When you gonna wake up and fight...
I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here, To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself?
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself? [x3]



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