Sick

Don't know why I have an armalite in my hand
I should ask someone and I would if I had a friend
Somehow I think I should put the barrel to my head
So tomorrow they'll write that an innocent kid is dead

Don't look at me like I'm sick

Guess you're thinking my thoughts are insane, well, you are wrong
Guess you want to explain me that suffering makes you strong
But all these scars are mine and my heart has turned to stone
And the world is a crow that devours the seeds I've sown

Don't look at me like I'm sick



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