Текст песни Twisted

(Kick it, Mr. Wingfield, faders up, have mercy) Hell, lately I've been living Way too damn fast This successful life I'm leading Is bound to kick my ass My gold and platinum records Just pay my gold card bills My whiskey drinkin' Cadillac And two-story house on the hill But it's hell It's hell And it's twisted It's twisted Lord, nobody have mercy on me Mercy on my soul I lived the life of a million men Buy, I ain't even thirty years old, no Gotta keep on, keep it on, till it's time I go Hell, I've been talking to myself About leaving this smokescreen haze Well, Mr. Fag let me tell you son That is the price you've got to pay But it's hell It's hell And it's twisted It's twisted Lord, have mercy, have mercy on me Mercy on my soul I lived the lives of a million men Yet, I ain't even thirty years old, no Gotta keep on, keep it on, till it's time I go I do it to myself Every day every night Hell More hell It gets twisted Ooh, twisted Lord, have mercy, have mercy on me Mercy on my soul I lived the lives of a million men Yet, I ain't even thirty years old, no So, maybe, baby, have mercy on me Can you feel me in your soul? I've been by your side, fourteen long years And I ain't even thirty years old, no Gotta keep on, keep it on, till it's time I go Fuck!