Spiritual Beggars - Lack of Prozac


You see me as a loser
You see me as a clown
You see me as a drinker
Well I see you as a whore

She runs after signs
She runs with a lie
She said she needed space
But that was just an excuse to run away

I had swallowed too much pain
I had to ventilate some hate
Amongst sissy pop-rock stars
My fist started to talk

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