Tyrants of the Damned
Bobby hears the music when it's done
He hears the voices
He hears the voices
Wheels on rain, lightning from the storm
Bobby takes the gas
Pedal to the floor
The voices
He hears the voices
Refrain:
Coming from the traffic,
Coming from the cube
Like the cry of babies
Passing through a tube
Voices run inside you
Jill breathes carbon trailing from the bus, it's like
Staring in the eyes of Lazarus
The voices
She hears the voices
Like a starving whisper no one ever heard
Like an epileptic
End It on This
I'm not your doormat, your floormat
So don't wipe your feet on me
I'm not the only Garibaldi
There's more fish in the sea
I'm not your puppy, nor goldfish
So don't treat me like your pet
I'm not your butterfly, so don't try
To chase me with your net I'm not your kneaded eraser
So don't you wear me down
I'm not your sledge, sledge hammer
I'm no tool, that you pound
I'm not your blacktop, for hopscotch
So don't jump all over me
I'm not the place where the dogs roam
At the bottom of the tree Don't you treat me like I have no feelings
Don't you treat me like that, I have feelings
Don't treat me like that
Don't you treat me like that
Don't treat me like that
Don't you treat me like that! I'm not your carefree, nor sugarless
Like the gum on your shoe,
I'm not the ring 'round your finger
Nor am I wrapped around you
I'm not your shoe string, your rope thing
So don't tie me in a knot
I'm not your asphalt, with oil spots
So don't use me as a parking lot