Bleach Music - Direct Hit!

I got a feeling that I can’t let go

All the parasites I can’t get rid of, I know

Using bleach’ll work, I’ll go real slow

Just pour a bit out on the grout, so white it’ll glow

Before I knew I’d spend a day

Hands and knees all bleeding on the floor in the same way

Everyone who sees me thinks that I’m insane

But they’re the kind who just distract me from the game I play

And I won’t stop living 'til I’m dead

Observation and complaining make me fucked up in the head

Oh you know they’re my hours and they’re not yours to spend?

My condition keeps you up at night

Just a minute, if you can’t wait, turn out the light

Got some work to do, not done 'til it’s right

By standard that I set that most consider too high

I’ve a question you can’t answer too:

Explain what makes your method better?

What makes me a fool?

Everyone who sees me thinks that I’m insane

I guess I just expect from you the same

And I won’t stop living 'til I’m dead

Observation and complaining make me fucked up in the head

Oh, you know, they’re hours and they’re not yours to spend

There’s an image in our head that we need made real

And we’ll clean, pick skin 'til we can’t quite feel

The burned, raw wounds from the cleaning we’ve done

Acid tends to fucking do that when it’s poured on someone

Excellence is best gained through your toil and pain

Not a whole lot anyone can say about it anyway

Clean and new’s the mean, and you are seen as who’s to blame

I got a feeling I’m already in hell

All the parasites are under my skin I can tell

Using bleach’ll work, I’ll go real slow

Just pour a bit 'til they crawl out, white as the snow

Before I knew I’d spent a day on hands and knees

All bleeding on the floor in the same way

Everyone who sees it knows that I’m insane

And I apologize, I’m too distracted by the game I play

There’s an image in our head that we need made real

And we’ll clean, pick skin 'til we can’t quite feel

The burned, raw wounds from the cleaning we’ve done

Acid tends to fucking do that when it’s poured on someone

Excellence is best gained through your toil and pain

Not a whole lot anyone can say about it anyway

Clean and new’s the mean, and you are seen as who’s to blame

And I won’t stop living 'til I’m dead

Observation and complaining make me fucked up in the head

Oh you know they’re my hours and they’re not yours to spend?