Pssyche (Live)

Woof, woof, woof-woof
Woof, woof, woof-woof
Woof-woof, woof
Hey
He-he-hey

You're alone in the pack, you're feeling like you want to go home
You're feeling life's finished but you keep on going
The reason is there but you won't find it till you've been and gone
Because you're living a hoax
Someone's got you sussed

Dull your brain or seek inspiration
You peel illusion and then you find it's a transfer
Drugs for the machine to play with your head
So you can stand back and watch or take part and learn

If you don't know the game then you're still part of it
Because out on the streets it's strange to see the show
Knowing full well that you're on the range
Dodge the bullets or carry the gun, the choice is yours

Look at the controller a Nazi with a social degree
A middle-class hero, a rapist with your eyes on me
You feast on masturbation, a priest cheers to the nuns you fuck
You'd wipe out spastics if you had the chance
But Jesus wouldn't like it, no
No
No
Pssyche

(Whoa, whoa, whoa, uuh, uuh, uuh, eeh, eeh, whoa, whoa)
Thank you so much
Especially those who are shouting
Thank you so much for Jazz, Jowdie and Big Paul
For 40 years of putting a party
And just not in the best time
For me, all directors here makes sense I'd never make

Jazz for me is one the best pro man I ever met world presence
Jowdie is easily the best guitarist alive today
And Big Paul is just rolling thunder
So, am the luckiest guy alive
Thank you again
Aww, so many happy years
So many happy years
I can't thank you enough