Scarsick Songtext
von Pain of Salvation

Sick!

It′s all sick! I feel sick
I'll be sick, then it′s fine
I'll conform to your norm with a bucket full of me
I'll be free
Finally I will see what you mean with your freedom
This world you call home

Not alone, happy drone
Won′t be sick of these cars
All these codes, and these bars
All these sickening scars
I′ll believe in the way of the stripes and the superstars
I will fall in line and obey
'Cause the price is so small
Almost nothing at all if I′m just losing me
Then the ideals and truths will follow naturally
Happily I will settle for your conformative apathy


If I could just get rid of this unsettling, uncomfortable
Unbendable bucket of insight and honesty
This sick, sick, sick bucket of reality
But you see; this sick will stick!

'Cause it′s me!
It's me!

Step into the dark age of treason
Today the only voice of reason
Would have to be the sound
Of the soup of the season hitting ground
Hitting ground

Step into the dark age of treason
Today the only voice of reason
Would have to be the sound
Of the soup of the season hitting ground
Hitting ground

Sick!
Sick!


Sick!
Feeling sickened by this fucking travesty
Is just a sign of sanity
You′re not alone
And every time that you hurt
Every cut, every scar
And every time you just hate
Everything that you are
It is simply the instinct to flee
To escape from this mess
This continuous rape of what's true and what's real

So you gnaw at your paw to get out of the trap
Of the cage, of our time
All that rage is your struggle to survive
They think you wanna die when in truth you just strive
Biting every hand just to stay alive

But can you hear that sound
In your ear, growing louder and louder?
The whole world around you
A pounding and grinding
That tells you that you′re not alone
It′s the sound of thousands and thousands
Of vixen teeth hitting bone
Hitting bone!

Step into the dark age of treason
Today the only voice of reason
Would have to be the sound
Of the soup of the season
Hitting ground
Hitting ground

Ah, ah
Step into the dark age of treason
Today the only voice of reason
Would have to be the sound
Of the soup of the season
Hitting ground
Hitting ground!

Hi- hi- hitting ground
Ah!
Hitting ground!
Ground!
Sick!
I feel sick!
Sick!
Of these bars and these cars
I feel sick!
Sick!
I feel sick!
I feel sick!
You are making me sick!
So sick!
Sick!
You are making me sick!
Sick!
It's all sick!
We′re all sick!
You are making me sick!
Soup of the season
Hitting ground