Lack of Prozac

You see me as a looser
You see me as a clown
You see me as a drinker
Well I see you as a whore
She runs after signs
She runs with a lie
She said she needed space
But that was just an excuse to run away
I had swallowed too much pain
I had to ventilate some hate
Amongst sissy pop-rock stars
My fist started to talk



Credits
Writer(s): Michael Amott, Ludwig Johannes Witt, Christian Bo Sjostrand
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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