Likely story, how pathetic, giving in to what the world expects from you
Mentality of a victim, you're just a prisoner of your own design
Don't you know, that in this city, the streets are paved with f*cking black tar?
The choice you make, and in its wake, the ties you break, the life you take
No matter what they told you
There is no drug that cures this
Before you try those lines on me, come up with something good enough to fool yourself
I can't condone your self-destructive ways
And I won't listen to your self-deluding rationale
You can't keep on telling yourself
That you're right where you belong
You can't keep on telling yourself
That you're right where you belong
We lied to ourselves when we said...
But you were right where you belonged
You love your jailor
You love your cell
You find your heaven in your own living hell
The smell of burnt plastic won't cover up the stench of rotting corpses
And failure in this clandestine mortuary
So regain your pride, grow a spine
Though I tried to help
There were just too many gravestones to trip me between here and there
No matter what they told you
There is no drug that cures this
Plea of Insanity - Stockholm Syndrome Lyrics
Plea of Insanity - Stockholm Syndrome Lyrics
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Likely story, how pathetic, giving in to what the world expects from you
Mentality of a victim, you're just a prisoner of your own design
Don't you know, that in this city, the streets are paved with f*cking black tar?
The choice you make, and in its wake, the ties you break, the life you take
No matter what they told you
There is no drug that cures this
Before you try those lines on me, come up with something good enough to fool yourself
I can't condone your self-destructive ways
And I won't listen to your self-deluding rationale
You can't keep on telling yourself
That you're right where you belong
You can't keep on telling yourself
That you're right where you belong
We lied to ourselves when we said...
But you were right where you belonged
You love your jailor
You love your cell
You find your heaven in your own living hell
The smell of burnt plastic won't cover up the stench of rotting corpses
And failure in this clandestine mortuary
So regain your pride, grow a spine
Though I tried to help
There were just too many gravestones to trip me between here and there
No matter what they told you
There is no drug that cures this
Mentality of a victim, you're just a prisoner of your own design
Don't you know, that in this city, the streets are paved with f*cking black tar?
The choice you make, and in its wake, the ties you break, the life you take
No matter what they told you
There is no drug that cures this
Before you try those lines on me, come up with something good enough to fool yourself
I can't condone your self-destructive ways
And I won't listen to your self-deluding rationale
You can't keep on telling yourself
That you're right where you belong
You can't keep on telling yourself
That you're right where you belong
We lied to ourselves when we said...
But you were right where you belonged
You love your jailor
You love your cell
You find your heaven in your own living hell
The smell of burnt plastic won't cover up the stench of rotting corpses
And failure in this clandestine mortuary
So regain your pride, grow a spine
Though I tried to help
There were just too many gravestones to trip me between here and there
No matter what they told you
There is no drug that cures this
Writer: Plea of Insanity
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid