|
You wanna make me sick;
|
You wanna lick my wounds
|
Don't you, baby?
|
You want the badge of honour when you save my hide
|
But you're the one in the way
|
Of the day of doom, baby
|
If you need my shame to reclaim your pride
|
And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
|
I never did anything to you, man
|
But no matter what I try
|
You'll beat me with your bitter lies
|
So call me crazy, hold me down
|
Make me cry; get off now, baby-
|
It won't be long till you'll be
|
Lying limp in your own hand
|
You feed the beast I have within me
|
You wave the red flag, baby you make it run run run
|
Standing on the sidelines, waving and grinning
|
You fondle my trigger, then you blame my gun
|
And when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
|
I never did anything to you, man
|
But no matter what I try
|
You'll beat me with your bitter lies
|
So call me crazy, hold me down
|
Make me cry; get off now, baby-
|
It won't be long till you'll be
|
Lying limp in your own hand
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Limp
|
| Apple, Fiona |
