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Pity you, you're telling me you've got a problem |
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A nervous sort of contraction, a mindless kind of reaction |
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You never get no satisfaction |
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Here's to you, I know you really got a problem |
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A nasty kind of reflection, a dangerous sort of destruction |
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That makes it difficult, makes it hard to reach |
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Takes it all away from what you had in mind, yeah, yeah, yeah |
|
Pity you, you're telling me you've got a problem |
|
A nervous sort of contraction, a mindless kind of reaction |
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A nasty sort of contraction, you never get no satisfaction |
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But there's some big fat point that you seem to be missing |
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And it's driving you to destruction |
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But it doesn't seem to stop you in the least |
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Or halt this obsession got you going on back |
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Week after week, day after day, hour after hour |
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From where you came for more of the same, yeah, yeah |
