Tillary

A silly thing it eats at me keeps me up I admit
 An ugly need you don't hide I can't help but to see
 Gets you hard makes you wet thrilled to talk and to vent
 Let me know tell me twice and again and again
 The brutal truth of the thing
 Is you need to control to feel free
 Your own life it's a pit luck is late to each event
 Job is lame so are friends simple math less than shit
 Appoint yourself take an oath rally troops affix a lens
 Letter sent lecture held you're center stage just for a bit
 The brutal truth of the thing
 Is you need to control to feel free
 No Gods, no masters you sing
 But you sure love playing police
 Mr. Officer
 What are my charges?
 Mr. Officer
 I want to speak in my defense
 Mr. Officer
 What are my charges?
 Mr. Officer
 I need the numbers on your badge
 I don't trust you with evidence
 Your moves and motives they don't match
 I want to speak in my defense