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So I turned on the radio and everyone was |
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listening to chicken jazz... |
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See that man over there... |
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He's got cold feet |
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He'd march to the drum |
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But the drummer's |
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Dead beat |
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He's fragile tonight |
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But he says he's clean |
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He's uncertain when he's speaking |
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But he knows what he means |
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Ah he's shivering now |
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But he don't look cold |
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He say |
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Turn up the weather |
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So I do as I'm told |
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Do you know about empty |
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Die a little inside |
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Cos he hasn't lived until he's died |
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You couldn't have lived until you've tried |
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He hasn't lived until he's died |
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The Little Death... |
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See that woman over there |
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She got cold feet |
|
She'd march to the drum |
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But the drummer's |
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Dead beat |
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She reach for the sky |
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But the sky turn black |
|
She hanging by her nails |
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but her knuckles just cracked |
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She said, "It's strange but nice to have no |
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future or past |
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If you can't stand the heat |
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you just turn up the gas" |
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I nod as if I know she can't say I haven't tried |
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Cos she hasn't lived until she's died |
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you couldn't have lived until you've tried |
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She hasn't lived until she's died |
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The Little Death... |
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_________________________________________________ |
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*written by Bob Geldof & Pete Briquette |
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*from the album entitled "V-Deep" |
