I don’t know if I can open up
I’ve been opened enough
I don’t know if I can open up
I’m not a birthday present
I’m aggressive aggressive
The past is over
And now the passive seems so pathetic

Are we fated, faithful, or fatal?
Are we fated, faithful, or fatal?

I feel stoned and alone like a heretic
And I’m ready to meet my maker
I feel stoned and alone like a heretic
I’m ready to meet my maker
Lazarus got no dirt on me
Lazarus got no dirt on me
And I rise in every occasion
I’m the mephistopheles of Los Angeles

Don’t know if I cannot open up
I’ve been opened too much
Double-crossed and glossed over in my pathos

Are we fated, faithful, or fatal?
Are we fated, faithful, or fatal?

I feel stoned and alone like a heretic
And I’m ready to meet my maker
I feel stoned and alone like a heretic
I’m ready to meet my maker
Lazarus got no dirt on me
Lazarus got no dirt on me
And I rise in every occasion
I’m the mephistopheles of Los Angeles