Übersetzung: Zusammenstellung. So Sick Of You - The Unseen.
Übersetzung: Ungesehen. So Sick Of You.
what to do, to do We're SO SICK OF YOU We're SO SICK OF YOU We're SO SICK OF YOU I'm the one who tell someone fuck you. You're not the one to tell
what to do, to do We're SO SICK OF YOU We're SO SICK OF YOU We're SO SICK OF YOU I'm the one who tell someone fuck you. You're not the one to tell me
do what to do, to do We're SO SICK OF YOU We're SO SICK OF YOU We're SO SICK OF YOU I'm the one who tell someone fuck you. You're not the one to tell
and smooth You see me as I watch you... When you move, I move too, But is this you or me who moves? Who are you and who's the reflection? Crush a crack
of the unseen I lived a lifetime of sorrow and hate, up until the other day That's when I left this sick old world behind Oh how love can make you blind
And so shall you... be put, to death... [Method Man] Beware of the six-six-six So morbid and twisted I'm sick, sick, sick Mad and sadistic, dark like
your acquired taste. Will you savor it. If it blood thirst will you run from it. No need cause I'm inside of you. When the sun is spit. You cannot escape
to take her home Dropped you off and seen you fishin on your raggedy Brougham Coulda thumped you and the dog (you little fag) And don't sag too hard, you
the light. That cross so bright. My (fledglings) dropping, weeping. Avoid the light. Overt your sight. Go underground just leave me. Alone, unseen,
ahead right Straight into them headlights, you get your head right Head right get a third strike, hit the turnpike Life quicker than spliff that wouldn't burn right Make you
tryin to take her home Dropped you off and seen you fishin on your raggedy Brougham Coulda thumped you and the dog (you little fag) And don't sag too hard, you
you run from it? No need 'cause I'm inside of you when the sun is spit You cannot escape me, I'm your last resort When you have a evil you cannot report
Alarm, pit bulls and barbed wire fences If you're not armed you're in harm's way You're hunted by wannabe desparados and hombres I'm sick of all this
meat, The way looks neither pleasant or too long. So have you stopped to wonder whether, If when weighed against a feather, All your deeds appear so
