Suicide In Progress
There's a little animal, way up in the air
My nose and tongue are roving, but maybe it's not there
There's a little man now, in the middle of the earth
He gives himself these orders and let it all be burned
There are lots of makeshift wonders, seven in the world
Five of them will not be noticed and three will not be heard
There's a meal there's a window, there's a face that you can't see
You can keep what you've stolen, just give it back to me
I vow to taste my vengence, even if they're dead
Maybe his time is coming, and maybe he's better off