There's a sickness that's inside me, one I'm far too scared to face One that bites the hand that feeds and taints the choices that I make I no longer am a young man, but some things never age And I might fix myself sometime, but that will never be today So can you stay awake? It's getting kind of late Let the sad songs play So let's make this one for the young pariahs Heretics, hypocrites, secondhand lions We're all the underdogs You want to help us put some fuel to the fire? I took my sadness, took my madness, took my misery and rage And I wrote a thousand words and spilled them all across the stage Never turned over a new leaf, always had to turn the page Because I'm always counting down to when I'll leave you all again Coastal mansions, broken homes, crowded cars but still alone Fear of always missing out but never could pick up the phone Constant headaches after shows, puking on the cobblestone The irony of dying in a parking lot right up the road So let's make this one for the young pariahs Heretics, hypocrites, secondhand lions We're all the underdogs You want to help us put some fuel to the fire? ♪ From the hospital door to the killing floor We are not cut out for this anymore From the hospital door to the killing floor We are not cut out for this anymore So let's make this one for the young pariahs Heretics, hypocrites, secondhand lions We're all the underdogs You want to help us put some fuel to the fire? From the hospital door to the killing floor We are not cut out for this anymore From the hospital door to the killing floor We are not cut out for this anymore