Whoa, you stress me out, you kill me You drag me down, you fuck me up We're on the ground, we're screaming I don't know how to make it stop I love it, I hate it, and I can't take it I tell myself I'm done with wicked games But then I get so numb with all

I won't let you bury it I won't let you smother it I won't let you murder it Our time is running out And our time is running out You can't push it underground We can't stop it screaming out The death of me