Mark said he could hold his own head up
|
and share his mind
|
with the peeling paint on the bedroom wall.
|
One step ahead of the pack of Marlboros.
|
Still, I don't believe he would take that fall.
|
Those things will put you back
|
some paychecks,
|
set you back about a year or two.
|
There's a sick little suicide in all that we do,
|
all that we do.
|
And the ground downtown is a countdown,
|
no air anywhere in the area.
|
Suck back these take-home packs of euthanasia.
|
Youth in America...
|
|
There's a sick little suicide
|
in all that we do.
|
There's a sick little suicide
|
in all that we do...
|
you decide,
|
which one's for you!?
|
|
Mark my words, oh, just a little more,
|
Sarah said,
|
and subtly subsistence is suicide.
|
Exercise and malnutrition
|
keep curves tight,
|
'cause all that matters is what's outside.
|
So says every magazine cover
|
which gallantly assaults
|
our own women and children,
|
but it's not my fault,
|
It's never my fault.
|
We dare bury our three-square fare
|
in a twenty-first century artery,
|
And feed beyond our need
|
so pardon me,
|
this part of me.
|
|
-----------------
|
Sick Little Suicide
|
| The Matches |
