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Sick City - Bobby Gillespie, David Holmes lyrics
Praise The Lard
Sick City
I woke up in a cold sweat
Wriggling and writhing... a man in the net
Take the bit in the teeth... put the gun in the hand
There ain't no judge this is no man's land
It's Sick City
Sick City
Sick City's got seven sins
No place where the conscience wins
Misery may be mother
One beggar can beg from another
Strike with the sword
Stricken with the scabbard
You won't get far climbing the ladder
Gotta take care of necessities
Caring for people's a luxury
Make sure you get what you need
So you threaten with a knife to feed your greed
Sick City's got seven sins
No place where the conscience wins
Sick City's got a sacred secret
Save your breath to cool your broth
Sick city... swollen land
Grease on the palm or a broken arm
Sick City has a special flavour
A brand new way to love thy neighbour
Sick City's got a sacred secret
Your guts get full don't drag your legs
In Sick City you're better off dead
Take the fat with the lean or a hole in your head
Praise The Lard
Sick City
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