Sex Pistols - Problems

Too many problems, oh why am I here?
I need to be me, 'cause you're all too clear
And I can see there's something wrong with you
But what do you expect me to do?
At least I gotta know what I wanna be
Don't come to me if you need pity
Are you lonely? You got no one
You get your body in suspension
That's a problem, problem
Problem, the problem is you

Eat your heart out on a plastic tray
You don't do what you want
Then you'll fade away
You won't find me working nine to five
It's too much fun being alive
I'm using my feet for my human machine
You won't find me living for the screen
Are you lonely? All needs catered
You got your brains dehydrated

Problem, problem
Problem, the problem is you
What you gonna do?

Problem, problem

Problem, problem
Problem, the problem is you
What you gonna do with your problem?
The problem is you, problem

I ain't equipment, I ain't automatic
You won't find me just staying static
Don't you give me any order
For people like me, there is no order

Bet you thought you had it all worked out
Bet you thought you knew what I was about
Bet you thought you'd solved all your problems
But you are the problem

Problem, problem
Problem, the problem is you
What you gonna do with your problem?
I'll leave it to you
Problem, the problem is you
You got a problem
What you gonna do?

They know a doctor, gonna take you away
They'll take you away and throw away the key
They don't want you and they don't want me
You got a problem, the problem is you
Problem, what you gonna do?
Problem, I'll leave it back
I have a problem, oh you got a problem

Problem, problem
Problem, problem
Problem, problem
Problem, problem
Problem, problem
Problem, problem
Problem, problem
Problem, problem, problem

Written by:
Glen Matlock, Paul Thomas Cook, Steve Jones, John Lydon

Publisher:
Lyrics © TuneCore Inc., BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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