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Funky Suicidal Masochist Blues
First, an aside:
XXVI
Good creatures, do you love your lives
And have you ears for sense?
Here is a knife like other knives,
That cost me eighteen pence.
I need but stick it in my heart
And down will come the sky,
And earth's foundations will depart
And all you folk will die.
—from "More Poems" by A. E. Housman
Following are the lyrics for "Funky Suicidal Masochist Blues." If you're interested in both the words and music for this song, check out the Lead Sheet. —BD

Funky Suicidal Masochist Blues
Words and Music by David R. Lister
Well, I'm a pessimist, Babe
Ever expecting rain
I'm a masochist, Baby Now
Never rejecting pain
And the song that I love singing
Is just some sad refrain
I'm a man without a soul
And there's a Black Hole in my brain
It's this waiting that I'm hating, Babe
Can't wait until I've nat'rally died
Oh, these times are so trying, Babe
And believe me, I've tried
(And I've tried and I've tried and I've tried)
But in the end, you can depend
I'll be on the losing side
It's so frustrating, Babe,
I'm contemplating sweet suicide
Yes, I guess I must confess, Babe
My life has lost all its gloss
I'm like some self-slain martyr, Babe
Hanging on a paraffin cross
And, God, I hope the sun
Don't come out and melt my cross
It would ruin my crucifixion, Babe
I couldn't stand the loss
Well, I stood on the hill, Babe
That overlooks the old city dump
Collecting all my will, Babe
And counting up the reasons to jump
Then some thieving junky yelled at me
"Hey, hold up a minute, punk!"
When he stole my lowly assets, Babe
The dude had screwed up my mood to jump
So now I'm sitting on the sofa, Babe
Laughing just to keep from crying
I'm making jokes as sharp as razor blades
Until the laughter starts dying
Then I aim to cut a vein
And watch my life flow down the drain
And if I'm not successful, Babe
At least I'll die trying
At least I'll die trying
At least I'll die trying
At least I'll die
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