Secondhand Lions

There's a sickness that's inside me, one I'm far too scared to face
One that bites the hand that feeds and taints the choices that I make
I no longer am a young man, but some things never age
And I might fix myself sometime, but that will never be today

So can you stay awake? It's getting kind of late
Let the sad songs play

So let's make this one for the young pariahs
Heretics, hypocrites, secondhand lions
We're all the underdogs
You want to help us put some fuel to the fire?

I took my sadness, took my madness, took my misery and rage
And I wrote a thousand words and spilled them all across the stage
Never turned over a new leaf, always had to turn the page
Because I'm always counting down to when I'll leave you all again
Coastal mansions, broken homes, crowded cars but still alone
Fear of always missing out but never could pick up the phone
Constant headaches after shows, puking on the cobblestone
The irony of dying in a parking lot right up the road

So let's make this one for the young pariahs
Heretics, hypocrites, secondhand lions
We're all the underdogs
You want to help us put some fuel to the fire?

From the hospital door to the killing floor
We are not cut out for this anymore
From the hospital door to the killing floor
We are not cut out for this anymore

So let's make this one for the young pariahs
Heretics, hypocrites, secondhand lions
We're all the underdogs
You want to help us put some fuel to the fire?

From the hospital door to the killing floor
We are not cut out for this anymore
From the hospital door to the killing floor
We are not cut out for this anymore