Your suicides
You do them with pride
You do them every year
You hang yourself
From the branch of a tree
The branch it breaks, I fear
Your suicides
You do them with pride
That hotel in King's Cross
You overdosed
On heroin
Till the use of a limb you lost
Your suicides
You do them with pride
That time you slashed your wrists
Your blood it clotted
Quickly
Your blood was just too thick
Your suicides
You do them with pride
In your car with exhaust fumes
Some nosy parker
Came along
Your suicide was doomed
Your suicides
You do them with pride
But are you really sincere?
You say some day you will succeed
But you're ninety-three next year
Yes, you're ninety-three (silly old sod, silly old sod)
You're ninety-three (silly old sod, silly old sod)
You're ninety-three next year (silly old sod, silly old sod)
Yes, you're ninety-three (silly old sod, silly old sod)
You're ninety-three (silly old sod, silly old sod)
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