Vice-GripMature

You’re the acid burning me out
My predicament that’ll revive your scorn
is the disease that you call affection
Still waters run shallow like your mind
but still you try and cling to the ghost of your pride

Where there’s a will, there’s a dead-end
still clawing from your tomb
sharing your demons with the world
Thinking everyone gives a damn
Well I do, I do...

You’re the voice that tells me to kill myself
You’re the voice that wishes me good health
I’m still in your vice-grip
You’re the voice that wounds my self esteem
You’re the choice that keeps me keen
I’m still in your vice-grip, oh boy

Fucking about with the generic fashion
and infecting my last surviving hope
I have faith you’ll be the death of me
Cause all the shit you put me through
is only the beginning...

Your kiss of strychnine laces my lips
that sweet venom makes me scream out for you
But I still want to see the remorse in your eyes
your golden innocence that has long since died
I do, I do...

You’re the voice that tells me to kill myself
You’re the voice that wishes me good health
I’m still in your vice-grip
You’re the voice that wounds my self esteem
You’re the choice that keeps me keen
I’m still in your vice-grip, oh boy

The End

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