Hit Me


He hates his work, his boss is a jerk and his wife is a bitch from Hell.
He works a ten hour shift, goes home to her shit, dreams of his own death knell.
A never-ending plight, a Don Quixote fight, we’re down but we’re not out.
Hit below the belt, playin’ the hand we’re dealt, get ready for the next bout.

The gloves are off, the seconds out, clock the southpaw swinging.
On the ropes, keep your guard up ‘n’ take that left-right stinging.

Hit me: Is that all you got?
Hit me: Give it your best shot.
Hit me, hit me, hit me!
Hit me: Make me feel alive.
Hit me: ‘cos I will survive.
Hit me, hit me, hit me!

In a cold, cold sweat, so deep in debt, can’t hold down a decent job.
Sleep in a stinkin’ skip, can’t seem to get a grip, cursin’/blamin’ some nameless God.
Beaten ‘n’ bruised, nothin’ left to lose, keep takin’ it on the chin.
All bets are off, back to your trough, heads you lose – tails they win.

PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS

Life is cruel, life is hard: for those of us born into grime.
(To) those who rule, those who guard: you are livin’ on borrowed time.

The gloves are off, the seconds out, clock the southpaw swinging.
Dropped your guard, got ya on the ropes, so-feel that left-right stinging.

Hit me: Come on try your worst.
Hit me: Now the role’s reversed.
Hit me, hit me, hit me!
Hit me: ‘cos I ain’t goin’ down.
Hit me: gonna hold my ground.
Hit me, hit me, hit me!
Hit me: Your devisive hate./fate.
Hit me: I punch above my weight.
Hit me, hit me, hit me!

©28.12.2017 Andrew Robert Chapman

death blow
keep gettin’ back in the ring.
Beaten ‘n’ bruised, nothin’ left to lose, feel the rage from within


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