Hilltop Hoods I Can't Take It song lyrics

I tried so hard

To live my life

With these kinda people round me X2

My is turning

So keep my head high

Oh don't you worry

Man I feel this pain and I realise the game ain't shit

Cause I've signed these kids arms where they've trieda' drain their wrists

And that's as deep as it gets son, deeper than an old drunk beating his step-son

Now how you going to mess with the loved ones? Wanna beat em'? It's like this demon wanted kids just to mistreat em'

As street preachers scream at the heathens. Man we've been caught up in a net like sea creatures.

Free speech is speechless we just don't care that they took it

We just don't care that they're crooked

Corruption is like cocaine and everybody's just so high

And they're all so good looking,

man fuck that, that kids got gravel on his knees from the ground he grovel on.

Matchstick Babylon burn it to the ground, churn it up, rip it up

(Turn it upside down, burn it up)

And grandfathers died on battlefields so we could die in toilet floors

Smack up, pass out and soil our drawers

Cut throat, blood soaks, and soils our shores

We got a war for oil that gives us oil for wars

Fuck that cause I'm a believer I love life

I love pieces like they don't love either

My love is deeper, my brothers keeper, its like they want to set us all now chuck the fucking ether

Is the world made of plastic? Is the city buried in schemes?

Ain't it tragic? Capture we rage and to lay in traffic, till it beats us into shape like a hated blacksmith. Writing blue collar change, a kid escaping notice, when the fuck we became the process.

Tainted focus, straining, so stressed, pain of slow death. No.

Burn it down in the name of progress.

We see, teach and grow the most lethal foe,

when he kills for a reason he don't even know.

While media's feeding your evening show like vampire's getting high on other people's lows.

So while the courts are choked with matters the only status that counts is the amount over balance.

Cause credit is a loan attached to a rope and ladder, if you don't know the swagger, the cloak and dagger.

Sex workers, street urchins, houses, squaller, glad the churches got (i don't know?) out

Got murderous politics. Don't be absurd its gonna surface hidden by the courteous bounds of honour.

And in the hope I'll cope I'll get over a flow with the dope and lines in the Copa Nostra. And I'm focused to know where the loves at.

Ya'll gotta go then It'll come back