So

You've got it figured out?

You think you're happy now?

Yeah you'll find how hard reality hits

Yeah yeah

B-b-bounce

So

You've got it figured out?

You think you're happy now?

You'll find how hard reality hits

I used to be optimistic that my life wouldn't fall to shit

Now I'm pent up with all of this rage

Spotlight on my empathy

It's centre stage, uh

So

You've got it figured out?

You think you're happy now?

You'll find how hard reality hits

Life's a bitch

And there's no prenup

So suck it up and fuck the world right back

Forty stitch

In my chest

No hits

Burn my money bitch

Pay attention, right?

Where's the lie?

You know I don't know

Cause life's so fucking shit

Taste it in my spit

Break my fucking lungs

And say it right

Where's the lie

You know I'll just fuckin'-

Oh, you think I write for you?

Oh, you think I write for you?

Oh, you think I write for you?

You must be deluded if you conceived

I was thinking of

Who do you want to see hurt?

Choke on the worms in the dirt

Of the grave your career has left

So, you've got it figured out?

You think you're happy now?

You'll find how hard reality hits

Swallow the bitterness

All of my disbelief

Brush your teeth with my seed

My patience has finally run out

So cut me up

Take my skin as payment

My patience has finally run out

My patience has finally run out

Death before dishonour

My patience has finally run out

My patience has finally run out

Death before dishonour

So

You've got it figured out?

You think you're happy now?

You'll find how hard reality-

So

You've got it figured out?

You think you're happy now?

You'll find how hard re-

B-b-bounce

So

You've got it figured out?

You think you're happy now?

You'll find how hard reality hits

Something just feels so wrong in here

I can't

See through the haze

(No, you are not yourself)

The poison you exhume

(No, you are someone else)

Killed off all of the beauty

(No, you are not yourself)

That was planted here to bloom

(No, you are someone else)

My patience has finally run out

So talk your shit

I ain't got time for you

Један, два, три, четири, пет, шест, шест, шест

Forty stitch

In my chest, no hits

Burn my money, bitch

Pay attention, right?

Where's the lie?

You know I don't know cause

Life's so fucking shit

Taste it in my spit

Break my fucking lungs

And say it right

Where's the lie?

You know I'll just fucking

Stick it to 'em

Fill the body bags with these punks

So the plastic don't go to a waste (stick it to 'em)

Killed the game

I arrived at the funeral just to

Spit in its face

To the dead bands with their dead trends

Tryna make ends meat

Without a label force-feeding rotten fruit from a dying tree