Текст: Protest The Hero. Scurrilous. Tongue-Splitter.

Psycho therapist once claimed I had acute neurosis
I only said a couple words and he made his diagnosis
He said I could say whatever I want because I never chose this
So I spat, grinned, then I looked at him and I blew him a glass cold kiss behind

Knows just when I let a bottom be dead
Never too sure if it's the truth or a lie

I'm not asking for your pity, woe is me sarcastically
I'm not losing sleep pathetically while waxing so poetically

But I'm waning waiting alphabetically
As I keep dropping bombs
Dropping bombs
Dropping bombs apologetically

It was a wicked whimpering winter plagued night
when my tongue grew wings and took to flight
the thought had never crossed my mind before that moment
is the truth so bent, it can't be broken

Jealousy got the best of me and had a conference with the rest of me
and said if this is all that's left for me then there's so little room for regret
Little voice
Little voice
Little voice inside
Said if you don't regret nothing then you might as well be dead
Might as well be dead

So I apologize, mostly to the four of my guys
Who stand behind me on the stage every night

as the mic starts to whisper
and the words start to blister in my mouth... that i know aren't right

I gotta get back to who I was before my last ten years on auto-pilot
It's the mask that quite often starts to eat into your face
So wear it lightly like a cap that can quickly be replaced

I gotta get back to who I was before my last ten years on auto-pilot

So tell me again how my life should have been before I was spineless
before I gave in
because everybody thinks it's timeless... Well time's running out
One thing I'll never regret is I never shed my face