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
s** 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 a**aults
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