Psychotic Good
How lucky can one guy be
While the other one always picks the short straw
And gets cut off from all the beauty to see?
Tell me quick, ain’t that a kick in the jaw?
I’ve searched for a path to become a believer,
And when I’ve tried the ways of the old
I’ve almost drowned inside the moon river
Since I can’t get into a story long told.
I can’t be blind to imperfection,
Malice doesn’t bring a positive reaction,
There’s no way any good can be drawn from the things around me.
All I can think of is objection,
I can’t get no satisfaction,
I feel that masochism is the only source of pleasure to be.
Into each life some rain must fall
But I’ve got skies crackling with lightning,
Within a gunfight for the leading role
It doesn’t really matter how positive I think.
Hope may die last but it’s not of any help
When it’s lying on a deathbed with nothing to say,
In this public and legally approved hell
I laughed like mad the night I called it a day.
On the edge of a loaded gun
My desire to torture the weak
Is ciphered hard by my moral code.
I can help myself, so to speak,
I imply that this self-harm will be fun,
But I pray that it won’t be forever so.
I can’t be blind to imperfection,
Malice doesn’t bring a positive reaction,
There’s no way any good can be drawn from the things around me.
All I can think of is objection,
Trying to get my satisfaction
I found that masochism is the only source of pleasure to be.
While the other one always picks the short straw
And gets cut off from all the beauty to see?
Tell me quick, ain’t that a kick in the jaw?
I’ve searched for a path to become a believer,
And when I’ve tried the ways of the old
I’ve almost drowned inside the moon river
Since I can’t get into a story long told.
I can’t be blind to imperfection,
Malice doesn’t bring a positive reaction,
There’s no way any good can be drawn from the things around me.
All I can think of is objection,
I can’t get no satisfaction,
I feel that masochism is the only source of pleasure to be.
Into each life some rain must fall
But I’ve got skies crackling with lightning,
Within a gunfight for the leading role
It doesn’t really matter how positive I think.
Hope may die last but it’s not of any help
When it’s lying on a deathbed with nothing to say,
In this public and legally approved hell
I laughed like mad the night I called it a day.
On the edge of a loaded gun
My desire to torture the weak
Is ciphered hard by my moral code.
I can help myself, so to speak,
I imply that this self-harm will be fun,
But I pray that it won’t be forever so.
I can’t be blind to imperfection,
Malice doesn’t bring a positive reaction,
There’s no way any good can be drawn from the things around me.
All I can think of is objection,
Trying to get my satisfaction
I found that masochism is the only source of pleasure to be.