• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• Suckerpunch - Pain
• Scorpionica - Orange Goblin
• Suckerpunch - Envy On The Coast
• Suckerpunch - Mayfield Four
• Suckerpunch - Five Iron Frenzy

I'm sick of only making peanuts.
I'm sick of stale sandwich bread.
I've got a plan to make it better
And it begins with a simple punch to my head.
Another count and I'm down but I'm wearing him down.
Keeping the faith that I've got what it takes.
Deride my pride but I'll be alright.
I've got a Rocky II lunchbox with bills in it
And I'll scrape by.
I have seen this on some episode
Of Maude, Fish, Chips, or the White Shadow
Rerun in my mind a thousand times
Though I forget the channel.
But I am back in my corner with ice packs and water
The champ's right hook changing my good side to bad.
Too late to make a run for the van
The doc leans in timidly asking about my health plan
I can see the referee wants to go home
(homey's got a wife and family)
And my detractors clap their hands and blow their smoke
(Headline news in next day's sportspage.)
With every second that goes by
I don't mind my swollen eyes.
'Cause I bet on myself and I'm making a killing.
My opponent planned victory, I planned to lose.
My bookie is crying, my wife thinks I'm dying
But I've got a nest egg that's hatching in the final round.
And as I fall to the floor I don't feel so hardcore
My teeth swinging loose like a drunk girl's caboose
My boys in the corner are pensive and somber
And Father O'Reilly is crossing himself more and more
I can see the referee want to go home
(Homey's got a wife and family)
And my detractors move their feet and blow their smoke
(Headline news in next day's sportspage).
'Cause I bet on myself and I'm making a killing.
My opponent planned victory, I planned to lose.
My bookie is crying, my wife thinks I'm dying
But I've got a nest egg that's hatching in the final round.
And the room spins round and round'
The victory party's at my place
After my loss and my disgrace.
'Cause I bet on myself and I'm making a killing.
My opponent planned victory, I planned to lose.
My bookie is crying, my wife thinks I'm dying
But I've got a nest egg that's hatching in the final round.

My god rises at daybreak
My goddess goes down on me at dawn
Hallucinate what is on the horizon
Scorpionica, she is born
My brain sings revolution
She sends life to the heart of the sun
Hallucinate what the sunrise is hiding
Scorpionica has begun
And as the sun burns on
And takes my soul away
The solar titan rises
And lives to shine another day
I got burnt for my madness
She got high on the heart of my soul
Sonic titans are riding the sunrise

31 days to wreck your plastic face,
And it's a disgrace to think I shook at the hand that feeds this race.
So open up, open up like a Russian doll.
You're the same, you're the same as the next one.
Don't you dare run,
I've been doing that for years.
Look at my face,
Does it smile and say "I'm okay"?
Cause there's blood on your face,
And that's just a taste...
I want black and blues, I want black and blues.
Look at my face,
Does it smile and say "I'm okay"?
And you cross my path,
And taste words that you waste.
I'll take it to the grave, take it to the grave.
Your word, your word.
I'll take it to the grave, take it to the grave.
Your word, your word.
I'll take it to the grave, take it to the grave.
Your word, your word.
I'll take it to the grave, to the grave, yeah.
31 days comes with 31 ways,
To picture your face on the floor beneath me.
So take your best shot, oh, you think you've got me now.
You've got blood drops, oh, and you're swollen,
And I'm wondering when you're gonna... make your move.
Look at my face,
Does it smile and say "I'm okay"?
Cause there's blood on your face,
And that's just a taste...
I want black and blues, I want black.
Look at my face,
Does it smile and say "I'm okay"?
And you cross my path,
And taste words that you waste.
I'll take it to the grave, take it to the grave.
Your word, your word.
I'll take it to the grave, take it to the grave.
Your word, your word.
I'll take it to the grave, take it to the grave.
Your word, your word.
I'll take it to the grave, to the grave, yeah.
Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde,
Dr. Jeckyl missed his flight.
Dr. Jeckyl, Dr. Jeckyl,
Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde,
Dr. Jeckyl missed his flight.
Dr. Jeckyl, Dr. Jeckyl.
I want black and blues.
I'll take it to the grave, take it to the grave.
Your word, your word.
I'll take it to the grave, take it to the grave.
Your word, your word.
I'll take it to the grave, to the grave.
Your word, your word.

It's been about a dozen seasons
Since the boy became a man
Now he sees the forest for the trees
Now he touches just enough to feel
He's much stronger than he was just yesterday
Won't get suckerpunched again
Gotta sink so you can swim, you know?
You never really learn
Till you fall and feel the burn, you know?
He looks back and has to pity where he's been
And then he smiles and walks away
There were days when it hurt too much to handle
Foolish boy had to learn how to dismantle
All those memories that wouldn't seem to leave
Won't get suckerpunched again
Gotta sink so you can swim, you know?
You never really learn
Till you fall and feel the burn, you know?
There is a reason, some reason for all of this
Affliction is a contradiction to our happiness
Except to those who know
Those who know, oh yeah
Won't get suckerpunched again
Gotta sink so you can swim, you know?
You never really learn
Till you fall and feel the burn, you know?
Won't get suckerpunched again
Gotta sink so you can swim
You know, you know, you know, you know

Coke bottle glasses
I'm sitting in the corner with my finger up my nose
and my shoelaces untied again.
Another day of school with no friends.
social outcast
two grades ahead in math with my high water pants.
Giving meaning to pencil-necked geek
a dork or so to speak
tongue in cheek.
They're all suckerpunching me.
Get in line for a wedgie.
All I want and all I need is someone who believes in me.
A song sung for underdogs
for all the left out.
A flag flying for losers somewhere in the heavens.
The God of everlasting comfort believes in me.
Loved me when I was faithless He still died for me.
Junior high schooler with pencils in
my pocket and my trapper keeper busted
spilling papers and books on the floor.
Not wanting seventh grade anymore.
Another class clown acting like
a goof to be accepted by my peers.
Giving meaning to pencil-necked geek
a dork or so to speak