Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
Norma Jean
I have nothing left to prove
No demonstrations, no explanations
There was never any intention for me to convince you
It's just another case of you
With your formless sense of importance
You’re breathing fire
And your words are burning in hell
This rebellion is marching to its disarray
It talks in circles
And its words are burning in hell
You are every inch of neutral
So avert your senses from my dedication
Wash my skin down to my stubborn and proud skeleton hands
Yeah
It's just another case of you
With your formless sense of importance
You're breathing fire
And your words are burning in hell
This rebellion is marching to its disarray
It talks in circles
And its words are burning in hell
You're not getting under my skin!
Yeah, you're not getting under my skin!
You're not getting under my skin!
You're not getting under my skin!
You're not getting under my skin!
You're not getting under my skin, under my skin!