Stress - Galactic Cowboys

No one calls unless I leave

No one’s home, the voice repeats

Kind hands wrapped around my neck

Sharp teeth biting in my back

Cold eyes burning laser beams

Oh!

God, relieve me of this STRESS

A list from A to Z, this is too much for me

Don’t want this mess, I must confess

I hate this stress

The more I work, the less I make

The less I learn, the more you take

Small lips telling big huge lies

White sores growing in my mouth

Red blood pouring from my heart

Oh!

God, relieve me of this STRESS

I’m not your property, come on and set me free

Don’t want this mess, I must confess

I hate this stress