Galactic Cowboys - Stress |
|
Stress
Galactic Cowboys No one calls unless I leave No one's home, the voice repeats Kind hands wrapped around my neck Sharp teeth biting in my back Cold eyes burning laser beams Oh! God, relieve me of this STRESS A list from A to Z, this is too much for me Don't want this mess, I must confess I hate this stress The more I work, the less I make The less I learn, the more you take Small lips telling big huge lies White sores growing in my mouth Red blood pouring from my heart Oh! God, relieve me of this STRESS I'm not your property, come on and set me free Don't want this mess, I must confess I hate this stress |
