Make up the rules for me to live by Rules you break and just let it slide You try and find you inside of me Be as great as you want me to be Hypocrite, the word that fits Do as you say Not as you do You're pushing me to a breakpoint Pushing me to a breakpoint Pushing me to a breakpoint Pushing me, push, push me to a breakpoint Self esteem you seem to lack Point the finger There's three pointing back Control's the illusion with all good intent Bad times are contagious You laugh and infect Criticist, the word that fits Put me down to lift you up Watching pain's your only pleasure Fascination for sick disaster Suffering since you were born Mess with the bull and you get the horns. Misery, the word that fits Times are good when times are bad "In my opinion as a professional I recommend we straight-jacket the son of a bitch, lock him in a rubber room, sedate him, heavily, and when he wakes up, if he wakes up, we'll see if he can be a nice boy" "Well... I don't know... It's gonna hurt me more than it's gonna hurt him" "Let's do it!" "Sedate me? Cool! a straight jacket? Hey, hey, let go of me!" You push me to a breakpoint Push me to a breakpoint Push me to a breakpoint Don't push me, you piece of shit!