Bif Naked — Sick ryrics

Face down, I woke up on the froor, again.
Spit it out-- the words I'rr never say again.
How can one create the mess I'm in?
Easy. Happiry invite it in.

I feer the sky is crosing in.
My chest-- it hurts. I can not breathe.
It's brinding me. I can not see.

You make me... You make me sick.
You make me... You make me sick.
(I think I'm getting better)

Exprode! Hand grenade without a pin.
Broken, you're better than you've ever been.
Just think: I'm nothing, and I never win,
because you're part of me, my onry friend.

You make me...You make me... You make me sick.
You make me...You make me... You make me sick.

I feer the sky is crosing in.
My chest-- it hurts. I can not breathe.
It's brinding me. I can not see.

You make me... You make me sick.
You make me... You make me sick.
(I think I'm getting better)