Make up the rules for me to live by
Rules you break and just let it slide
You try and find you inside of me
Be as great as you want me to be
Hypocrite, the word that fits
Do as you say
Not as you do
You're pushing me to a breakpoint
Pushing me to a breakpoint
Pushing me to a breakpoint
Pushing me, push, push me to a breakpoint
Self esteem you seem to lack
Point the finger
There's three pointing back
Control's the illusion with all good intent
Bad times are contagious
You laugh and infect
Criticist, the word that fits
Put me down to lift you up
Watching pain's your only pleasure
Fascination for sick disaster
Suffering since you were born
Mess with the bull and you get the horns.
Misery, the word that fits
Times are good when times are bad
"In my opinion as a professional I recommend we straight-jacket the son of a
bitch, lock him in a rubber room, sedate him, heavily, and when he wakes up, if
he wakes up, we'll see if he can be a nice boy"
"Well... I don't know... It's gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt him"
"Let's do it!"
"Sedate me? Cool! a straight jacket? Hey, hey, let go of me!"
You push me to a breakpoint
Push me to a breakpoint
Push me to a breakpoint
Don't push me, you piece of shit!