Sick - Bif Naked

Face down, I woke up on the floor, again.

Spit it out-- the words I’ll never say again.

How can one create the mess I’m in?

Easy.

Happily invite it in.

I feel the sky is closing in.

My chest-- it hurts.

I can not breathe.

It’s blinding 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)

Explode!

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 only friend.

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

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

I feel the sky is closing in.

My chest-- it hurts.

I can not breathe.

It’s blinding 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)