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 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 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 And I’m ready to meet my maker! 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 Of Los Angeles I’m the mephistopheles of Los Angeles