| Song | Something's Off |
| Artist | Hatebreed |
| Album | The Concrete Confessional |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : James Jasta/Frank Novinec/Chris Beattie/Wayne Lozinak/Matthey P. Byrne | |
| 作曲 : James Jasta/Frank Novinec/Chris Beattie/Wayne Lozinak/Matthey P. Byrne | |
| There's a beast in every man who breathes | |
| With him from birth until beside him in the grave | |
| A hideous presence just aching for release | |
| Its chains aren't as strong as its memory | |
| It lies dormant so far from dead | |
| Grating on me, this uninvited sense | |
| Its whisper like branches as they bend | |
| Twisting, grinding just threatening to snap | |
| Floods of frustration, cascading in my skull | |
| On the axis back and forth, the swinging pendulum | |
| So much damage, bashing each wall | |
| I hear the sand pounding in the hourglass as it falls | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
| Off, off | |
| The endless rage that tells me something's | |
| Off, off | |
| The voice that's spitting lies, just turn it | |
| Off, off | |
| Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
| Off, off | |
| The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
| There it is again, telling you you can't | |
| That lump in your throat, you fight to swallow back | |
| There it is again, hoping that you won't | |
| Wishing failure but not giving up the ghost | |
| Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
| Pushing off fingers from the ledge of sanity | |
| Like a thousand leeches, feeding on your wits | |
| Making something meaningless seem significant | |
| [Chorus] | |
| Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
| Off, off | |
| The endless rage that tells me something's | |
| Off, off | |
| The voice that's spitting lies, just turn it | |
| Off, off | |
| Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
| Off, off | |
| The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
| This uninvited guest inside my brain | |
| With every threat whispered I feel nothing | |
| And when I'm at my best it intervenes | |
| How can I get anyone else to relate | |
| Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
| On the edge, pushing my fingers off, off | |
| [Chorus] |
| zuo ci : James Jasta Frank Novinec Chris Beattie Wayne Lozinak Matthey P. Byrne | |
| zuo qu : James Jasta Frank Novinec Chris Beattie Wayne Lozinak Matthey P. Byrne | |
| There' s a beast in every man who breathes | |
| With him from birth until beside him in the grave | |
| A hideous presence just aching for release | |
| Its chains aren' t as strong as its memory | |
| It lies dormant so far from dead | |
| Grating on me, this uninvited sense | |
| Its whisper like branches as they bend | |
| Twisting, grinding just threatening to snap | |
| Floods of frustration, cascading in my skull | |
| On the axis back and forth, the swinging pendulum | |
| So much damage, bashing each wall | |
| I hear the sand pounding in the hourglass as it falls | |
| Chorus | |
| Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
| Off, off | |
| The endless rage that tells me something' s | |
| Off, off | |
| The voice that' s spitting lies, just turn it | |
| Off, off | |
| Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
| Off, off | |
| The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
| There it is again, telling you you can' t | |
| That lump in your throat, you fight to swallow back | |
| There it is again, hoping that you won' t | |
| Wishing failure but not giving up the ghost | |
| Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
| Pushing off fingers from the ledge of sanity | |
| Like a thousand leeches, feeding on your wits | |
| Making something meaningless seem significant | |
| Chorus | |
| Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
| Off, off | |
| The endless rage that tells me something' s | |
| Off, off | |
| The voice that' s spitting lies, just turn it | |
| Off, off | |
| Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
| Off, off | |
| The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
| This uninvited guest inside my brain | |
| With every threat whispered I feel nothing | |
| And when I' m at my best it intervenes | |
| How can I get anyone else to relate | |
| Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
| On the edge, pushing my fingers off, off | |
| Chorus |
| zuò cí : James Jasta Frank Novinec Chris Beattie Wayne Lozinak Matthey P. Byrne | |
| zuò qǔ : James Jasta Frank Novinec Chris Beattie Wayne Lozinak Matthey P. Byrne | |
| There' s a beast in every man who breathes | |
| With him from birth until beside him in the grave | |
| A hideous presence just aching for release | |
| Its chains aren' t as strong as its memory | |
| It lies dormant so far from dead | |
| Grating on me, this uninvited sense | |
| Its whisper like branches as they bend | |
| Twisting, grinding just threatening to snap | |
| Floods of frustration, cascading in my skull | |
| On the axis back and forth, the swinging pendulum | |
| So much damage, bashing each wall | |
| I hear the sand pounding in the hourglass as it falls | |
| Chorus | |
| Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
| Off, off | |
| The endless rage that tells me something' s | |
| Off, off | |
| The voice that' s spitting lies, just turn it | |
| Off, off | |
| Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
| Off, off | |
| The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
| There it is again, telling you you can' t | |
| That lump in your throat, you fight to swallow back | |
| There it is again, hoping that you won' t | |
| Wishing failure but not giving up the ghost | |
| Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
| Pushing off fingers from the ledge of sanity | |
| Like a thousand leeches, feeding on your wits | |
| Making something meaningless seem significant | |
| Chorus | |
| Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
| Off, off | |
| The endless rage that tells me something' s | |
| Off, off | |
| The voice that' s spitting lies, just turn it | |
| Off, off | |
| Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
| Off, off | |
| The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
| This uninvited guest inside my brain | |
| With every threat whispered I feel nothing | |
| And when I' m at my best it intervenes | |
| How can I get anyone else to relate | |
| Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
| On the edge, pushing my fingers off, off | |
| Chorus |