Sick - Sascha Paeth's Masters Of Ceremony

Prouder than a lion

But you whisper like a snake

Boasting like a peacock

Of the magic you can make

You’ve got your eye on a prize

To own my body and mind

And you know how to make me

Scream

Your love is sick

Your love is sick

Your eyes are kind

Your soul is kind

But your love makes me so sick!

Master with a silver tongue

Kiss me once again

Tell your pretty tales

So they come running to your defense

Sick

Your Love Is Sick

Touch me like i can’t say no

You think you know i wan’t it

Twist my words against me

Charm me with the blame again

Nobody left on my side

To see my pain every night

I love the way that you

Punish me

Your love is sick

Your love is sick

Your eyes are kind

Your soul is kind

But your love makes me so sick!

Master with a silver tongue

Kiss me once again

Tell your pretty tales

So they come running to your defense

Sick

Your Love Is Sick

(So sick)

I know what you are

You can’t hide behind your lies

My eyes are open

Heart is broken

Now

I let this go to far

Gave your reign over my life

You saw yourself inside me

Now I’ll be the nemesis

To your narcissus

And hang you out to dry

Your love is sick

Your love is sick

Your eyes are kind

Your soul is kind

But your love makes me so sick!

Master with a silver tongue

Kiss me once again

Tell your pretty tales

So they come running to your defense

Sick

Your Love Is Sick!