Cynic Lyrics

Disembodied Cynic

Tell me all your f..cking problems
And i'll listen with and open ear
Then I'll tell you where to take them
Cause I don't f..ckin care
You make me sick
With all your standards
Sick with all your rules.
Sick with all your propaganda
You f..cking fools...

You make me sick! (x4)

One shot and f..ck the rest
If that's how it's gotta be
f..ck your hierchy
What makes you think your better than me?
Who are you to judge me?
Who died and made you god?
f..ck you.
I'll see you in hell
Now i see through your facade

You make me sick
Mothafucker!

You don't know the pain i've felt
You don't know the strain i've delt
So f..ck you
f..ck you (x3)

You don't know what the f..ck i've been through
So f..ck you.