In a world
In a place,
Where a man can instigate
And rearrange his face,
Where he can teach hate,
Where people hang on every hateful statements he makes,
And disappoint his fans
When they find that he's fake,
And a once perfect man
Is now perfectly shamed.
And it's pressure,
Pushing down more and more,
Feeling overwhelmed
When you go through the door,
It's pressureous,
Which is now a word,
And it's treacherous,
The way you're whack or you're word,
So much pressure to win,
When you start diving in,
So much pressure to prove,
You're worth what you do,
So much pressure to be,
The man with the plan,
With everything going for him,
And yet everything starts to prove,
Indefinitely that,
This man can't be you.
After the day is done,
And the battle is won,
And you sit cursing yourself,
Screaming "Son of a gun,"
Or son of a bitch,
If you just don't give a sh~t,
Depending on who's life is which,
And within your mind,
You start to realize,
The battle is losing
And you're all out of time,
You start to lose your rhyme,
It get's worse and worse,
Your mind's breaking down
And it hurts and it hurts,
The moral of this story?
The perfect man teaches hate.
And it's pressure,
Pushing down more and more,
Feeling overwhelmed
When you go through the door,
It's pressureous,
Which is now a word,
And it's treacherous,
The way you're whack or you're word,
So much pressure to win,
Find more similar lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.com/67tLWhen you start diving in,
So much pressure to prove,
You're worth what you do,
So much pressure to be,
The man with the plan,
With everything going for him,
And yet everything starts to prove,
Indefinitely that,
This man can't be you.
In a world
In a place,
Where a man can instigate
And rearrange his face,
Where he can teach hate,
Where people hang on every hateful statements he makes,
And disappoint his fans
When they find that he's fake,
And a once perfect man
Is now perfectly shamed.
There's a time and place,
To learn and teach hate,
There's a face on the plate,
Of the great of the great,
The monument held to strictly probate,
The making of love
And the teaching of hate
Goes on in a place,
Where a man can instigate,
And rearrange his face,
Where he can teach hate,
Where people hang on every hateful statements he makes,
And disappoint his fans
When they find that he's fake,
And a once perfect man
Is now perfectly shamed.
And it's pressure,
Pushing down more and more,
Feeling overwhelmed
When you go through the door,
It's pressureous,
Which is now a word,
And it's treacherous,
The way you're whack or you're word,
So much pressure to win,
When you start diving in,
So much pressure to prove,
You're worth what you do,
So much pressure to be,
The man with the plan,
With everything going for him,
And yet everything starts to prove,
Indefinitely that,
This man can't be you.