Tekstovi: Wilhelm Scream (A). Career Suicide. The I Hate Fucking Club.

Took some bad advice. Worked me over.
Ripped the bandages, scratched the itch I didn't ask for.
Put on the mask. Scare the orphans.
In the morning, start it over. You're alive.

Take the bus to work. With the martyrs.
Sign the birthday card with the boxing nuns.
Fake a heart attack. Dodge the mortars.
It's Therapeudic. Pugilistic. Fisticuffs

Is anybody with me? I'll act just like I care at all.
Is everyone against me? Well, join the fucking club.

Walk the land in spite. Spit in the water.
It's as sad as watching the rich have fun.
Back off the mic, check the faders
Am I too late for the reckoning, is it done?

Is anybody with me? I'll act just like I care at all.
Is everyone against me? Well join our fucking club.

Well I wanna know. (Rock stars ain't artists.)
Am I out of touch with nature? (Artists aren't rock stars either.)

Cause I'm running out of demons to face.
Stuck in a shell of what I used to be. It's alright.

I don't remember names. I don't remember faces.
But I know what the world is waiting for.

And you're not so special either.

Walk the land in spite. Spit in the water.
Take advantages. Seize the diems. In the dumps.

Running out of demons to face.
Stuck in the shell of what I used to be. It's alright.

Is anybody with me? I'll act just like I care at all.
Is everyone against me?

Well join the fucking club.