'Wrong One To Fuck With' out now CD/2xLP/Digital via Relapse Records.
Order Here: http://bit.ly/DyingFetusWOTFW
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Lyrics:
Sunken and swollen, left to sink in bed
Numb to all the pain and shame
Procrastinate every thought every breath
Zombie land playground is what you have earned till death
Lost in space where depression fails to grab hold
Dull, dim-witted, slurred drivel to behold
Dazed, confused, you are checked out
Forgot what the stress was about
Lazy and crooked doctors give in to
Your pathetic cries of forfeit
Built-in ready excuses
It was subscribed to, I'm not going die today
Oblivious to any criticism
Legal and ordered to consume
Given up for all accounts
Deadly brew of pills, I deny
Self-subscribing, pain or mental?
Extra ground up in how many bumps?
Closest thing to rapture enjoy
Ignore disgrace its non-existent
Lonely place of degradation, misery likes company
Tell their story to each other, their modified history
Junkie birds of a feather, new lies weave easily
So proud of the victim status, share the pain and believe
Sum of the day's score is how content you're meant to be
Hiding in your dungeon, gloomy place of depravity
Sickly and contagious, aura of negativity
You’re drenched in the squalor, state of degeneracy
Baffled by being avoided, family and friends look for the exits
In denial of excessive self-loathing, looking for pity and any will do
Trying to force people to sympathize, putting on the show of your misfortune
No one wants to hear about your decline, or want to watch your self-destruction
Reveling in the abyss, the vacant stare, almost unconscious
Forget about all the shit that's piled high
Hoard the stuff it's not enough, then the trash is adding up
Preying on others' understanding, single out who will empathize
Betray the trust of dispersed pity
Squander any currency you think you're entitled to receive
Pessimist till the end, Debbie downer is not your friend
Manipulation to the highest degree
Lies you tell are eventual truth
Piece of shit you don't even fucking know it
Forsaken and marooned
Time is running short on feeling sorry for yourself
Your body's failing not made for the insalubrious
Your weakened state, the result of neglect
The toll you have taken from self-medication
Sleeping in garbage, and effectively abandoned
Fuming alone about everyone's callousness
You are the trash that others have taken out
Removed the burden, that's had them weighed down