BAD45 - Sunday Morning [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Some thinking
I’m a rum drinking
Non-linking persona
Like Jesse Pinkman
Well, I’m more like a virus in your veins
Cause a tumour in your brain
Only purpose is to cause mayhem (Say my name)
Simple and plain
This motherfucker is insane
“Why can’t you be polite?”
Bitch, I’ve tried
But they tried to fuck me, so I feel like
I must remind you: fucking with me is a suicide
And it’s a delight, I must admit
Fucking right, I’m dying for this shit
Bitch, I’m killing for a living – fucking paradox
Tried to get outta this box
But the fucking door was locked (Damn)
And so I’m stuck in this I don’t give a fuck mode
I get carried away with slitting a throat
“Why do you always gotta be so violent?”
I’m not, bitch, I want you to die by your own hand
So could you please commit suicide
Those scars on your wrist tell me you’ve already tried
And look what you’ve done, fool
Look how people act when they’re around you
It’s fucking awkward, don’t tell no jokes and shit
It makes me wanna pop some pills, overdose and shit
Cos I just wanna have fun, get some hoes to suck my dick
Why couldn’t you just stick to the script, huh?
Stick to the script
Shit, motherfuckers starting to fucking get on my nerves
Shit, why don’t you put your motherfucking mouth on the curb
Or better yet
Let’s pretend I’m a business man from Amsterdam
You know the drill
I’m just looking for some amusement
Bitch, I’m out to kill
I’m ‘bout to get homicidal
I wanna keep your ‘eyes without a face’ like Billy Idol
‘d love to Michael Myers you, it ain’t even about survival
I just wanna kill ya for the fuck of it
While your bitch’s sucking on my dick
Cut your guts out, hang that shit
Up on the line, is that so sick
To call me psycho, a fucking lunatic
Fucking right it is
But still you fuckers ride to this
So who’s not right in his
Mind, yours or mine
Which one is
More disturbed
Guess, we’ll find out in time
I’m not the kind to lift the skirt
Of a six year-old girl
Let me show you my world
I’m like Dex
Swing that ax
Dismember your arms, head and legs
Send it ‘round the world via FedEx
Feds looking for a pattern
Thinking too complex
‘less they have a magic lantern
They’ll never guess what’s next

Sunday morn’
Murder the whole fucking choir
Put on a crown of thorns
Bow down to the sire
This ain’t just a song
I’m driven by a higher
Power, kingdom come
Set the fucking church on fire

Hook (repeat):
If you wanna know what’s really going on inside
My mind
Make sure you follow that bright light