Sick On Seventh Street

What’s it like to have the world on a string
Knowing you can change it but you don’t do a thing
When it’s down to the last hour
Down to the last power
You know how to sit back and collect your own win
Who are you when no one sees
It’s awfully convenient
That the devil in your details
Are the dirty little reasons in me
I’m feeling sick in the head
I want to dance with all your friends
Come plant a kiss on the lips in the back of the bar
In New York City, I’m feeling…
Sick little boys with their sick little games
Sick little feelings in my sick little brain
If it looks good, feels good, there’s probably a catch
You’re wood and I’m phosphate, hey, we make a good match
I’m feeling sick in the head
I want to dance with all your friends
Come plant a kiss on the lips in the back of the bar
In New York City, I’m feeling
Sick of that shit, I don’t want to fall asleep like this
Come plant a kiss on the lips in the back of the bar
In New York City, I’m feeling sick