Your Throat Is In My Grip

You want to be somebody, you want to be somebody. You aren't anybody, not anybody. I have your throat in my grip, I've made a list, a list of declarations. I want what I want, your throat is in my grip and you will do what I want, now. I want my money back from this show, this show that you think is so great. My list is written out on my arm, the ink is leeching into my blood, the words are like acid, ammonia. You want to be somebody, I want to be somebody, we both won't get what we want. Bring in the riot squad, let them try and free somebody, put me out of my misery! Militia cold, bred for battle, your throat is in my grip, see the world through my eyes. bloodshot and insomnia wired, crucify my nervous body. Machine gun roar, feedback from speakers that tower to the sky, if you aren't dead yet, then sing along, sing along, fists to teeth, fingers in flesh. Your throat is in my grip. You want to be somebody, you want to be somebody. You aren't anybody, no you aren't anybody!