Black Mamba

we've got one chance to break outand we need it nowcause i'm sick and tired of waitingsick of this fucking apartmentlove me or leave me or rip me apartthis is the voice that i was given andif you don't like it take a long walkoff of the shortest pier you can findand i'll be singing it out i'll be singing...oh, Mr. Magazine i never wrote one single thing for youor your so-called music sceneyou don't mean a thing to mepick it up, pick it up, it's what you wanted.pick it up, pick it up, and you need it too.pick it up, pick it up, it's what you wanted.pick it up, pick it up.when they review the debutwhat if the critics hate youdon't worry cause theymight just catch somebody off their feetwell they can love it or leave it or rip it apartwe're living while we're singingso i guess that's a step in the right directionclever composition in the honesty, honestyoh, Mr. Magazinei never wrote one single thing for youor your so-called music sceneyou both mean shit to mepick it up, pick it up, it's what you wanted.pick it up, pick it up, and you need it too.pick it up, pick it up, it's what you wanted.pick it up, pick it up.so save your breath and the money you spentgo work in retail and spare the suspensejust don't take chances on anything at allanything at allso afraid of anything that may not come that easytoo afraid of anything that you may not have seen beforeso afraid of anything that may not come that easytoo afraid of anything that may not...pick it up, pick it up, it's what you wanted.pick it up, pick it up, and you need it too.pick it up, pick it up, it's what you wanted.pick it up, pick it up.so save your breath and the money you spentgo work in retail and spare the suspensejust don't take chances on anything at allanything at all