Sick Little Suicide

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
Sara 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