das que falam por mim

you wanna make me sick,
you wanna lick my wounds, don't you, baby?
you want the badge of honour when you save my hide
but you're the one in the way of the day of the doom, baby
if you need my shame to reclaim your pride...

when I think of it, my fingers turn to fists
I never did anything to you, man
no matter what I try, you'll beat me with your bitter lies
so call me crazy, hold me down, make me cry, get off now, baby
It won't be long 'till you'll be lying limp in your own hands!

you feed the beast I have within me
you wave the red flag, baby you make it run run run
standing on the sidelines, waving and grinning
you fondle my trigger, then you blame my gun

[fiona apple - limp]