(Dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Back in that hole.)
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Larry made his nest high up in the autumn branches
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Built from nothing but high hopes and thin air
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He collected up some baby blasted mothers who took their chances
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And for a while they lived quite happily up there
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He came from New York city man, but he couldn't take the pace
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He thought it was like dog eat dog world
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Then he went to San Francisco, spent a year in outer space
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With a sweet little San Fransiscan girl.
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I can hear my mother wailing and a whole lot of scraping of chairs
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I don't know what it is but there's definitely something going on upstairs
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(Dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(I want you to dig) (Back in that hole.)
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(I want you to dig)
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(I want you to dig)
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Yeh, New York City he had to get out of there and San Francisco well,
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I don't know and then to LA where he spent about a day
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he thought even the pale sky stars were smart enough to keep well away from LA
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Meanwhile Larry made up names for the ladies
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Like miss Boo and miss Quick
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He stockpiled weapons and took potshots in the air
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He feasted on their lovely bodies like a lunatic
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And wrapped himself up in their soft yellow hair
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I can hear chants and incantations and some guy is mentioning me in his prayers.
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Well, I don't know what it is but there's definitely something going on upstairs
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(Dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(I want you to dig) (Back in that hole.)
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(I want you to dig)
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(I want you to dig) Well New York City man, San Francisco, LA, I don't know
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But Larry grew increasingly neurotic and obscene
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I mean he, he never asked to be raised from the tomb
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I mean no one ever actually asked him to forsake his dreams
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Anyway to cut a long story short, fate finally found him
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Mirrors became his torturers, cameras snapped him at every chance
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The women all went back to their homes and their husbands with secret smiles in the corner of their mouthes
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He ended up like so many of them do, back on the streets of New York City
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In a soup queue, a dope fiend, a slave, then prison, then the madhouse, then the grave
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Ah poor Larry.
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But what do we really know of the dead And who actually cares?
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Well, I don't know what it is but there's definitely something going on upstairs. (Dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(Laz'rus dig yourself)
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(I want you to dig)
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Back in that hole Dig yourself
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-----------------
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Dig!!! Lazarus Dig!!!
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| Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds |
