text: Leeches surrounded, conscious is throbbin
  They cant sleep at night, hold their pillows tight
  Caught in the rivers of the tears that I cried
  Bountiful harvest, they flocked to my garden
  Pushed their way inside, I go run and hide
  They lift all the covers, pull me into their side
  Slimy and superficial, straighting their artificial
  Yet they seem official, making it beneficial to their cause
  How much blood can you draw with your claws
  From a flesh thats not yours? My hands arent yours
  And all of my bones or my whole life to keep you inthralled
  I guess that is the luck of the draw, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah
  Let all their friеnds in the enemys prеsent