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david icke - mr. wrong lyrics

[verse 1]
my hitlist is full, grim and dull
hide from sky, quite miserable, make the simple things in life difficult
trippin’ off a single pull, entirely f*cked up individual
convinced there’s somethin’ missin’ in my skull
life is pitiful when you live like oxygen is k!llin’ ya
mad as f*ck at nothing in particular
big up truancy, but i’ll be there when i doesn’t have sh*t to do with me
human, give me room to breathe
f*ckin’ 4 football fields worth
flip dinner tables, fold steel chairs to see who’s eating first
i aim to f*ck up the planet
coz they live, i’m selling sunglasses at thе gates of buckingham palace
i was lackin’ a vision so planned to crack thе religion
that i, myself, would never put into practice
but centuries after suspicions haven’t arisen
pr*ne to anxiety attacks with a panic addiction
mr wrong, one of them, spliced with human cells
i dwell in a glass bottom house with a view of h*ll
drugs * i’m takin’ ’em, two bags of shrooms for self
abducted by earth government funded aliens
plus deranged within, son, i’m satan’s kin
my notepad is a booklet of h*ll*raising hymns
and i decorate my face with pins for performances
fade to black, 9 silhouettes walkin’ with awkward limps
[hook]x2
raise a middle finger in the name of david icke
save your life

[verse 2]
cannabis psychosis and still smoke spliffs
i pose in most pics on some marcus gunn jaw*winking syndrome sh*t
only feel at home amidst misguided scum
hide from sun, low ambition but will fight for crumbs
drink pints of rum, pop pills, die for fun
no doubt, i’m stayin’ smoked out with grid*iron lungs
hanging kids by their tongues for respect
wack rappers step up and then jump to their death
f*ckin’ slap you if you’re delicate
i wouldn’t hit a man with glasses, i’d break the frames and stab him in the neck with it
thanks to a crew of pr*cks who sip lager like women
and some posh kids who sat off, p*ssed, barkin’ opinions
the room’s oblivious to the sick arsonist grinnin’
servin’ molotov c*cktails with lit sparklers in ’em
f*ck the party, i slipped in through the back and filled their pool with rats
simply for never having a view of flats[?]
of course, i hate ’em all just for havin’ more
retreat! panic mode * barricade your palace door
i have a problem with sittin’ still, thus, think i’m ill
pack bazookas and jack the jewellers in lizardville

- mr wrong lyrics

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