Problem

I've got a little problem
It's eating me away
I'm getting quite aggressive
In what I do and say
A poison that is spreading
Into every vein and pore
An itch I keep on scratching
It's making me quite sore.

Take it now before The Lord
Give Him all your pain
Give Him all your useless dreams
Flush them down the drain
Turn your eyes upon The One
Who died to set you free
He is your sure antidote
To heal the devils spree.