Mary Coughlan The Little Death
So I turned on the radio and everyone was
Listening to chicken jazz...
See that man over there
He's got cold feet
He'd march to the drum
But the drummer's dead beat
He's fragile tonight
But he says he's clean
He's uncertain when he's speaking
But he knows what he means
He's shivering now
But he don't look cold
He said "Turn up the weather"
And I do as I'm told
Do you know about empty
Died a little inside
He hadn't lived until he tried
He hadn't lived until he tried
The little death...
The little death...
See that woman over there
She's got cold feet
She'd march to the drum
But the drummer's dead beat
She reached for the sky
But the sky turned black
Now she's hanging by her nails
But her knuckles just cracked
It's strange but nice
To have no future or past
If you can't stand the heat
You better turn up the gas
I nod as if I know
And she can't say I haven't tried
She hadn't lived until she tried
She hadn't lived until she tried
The little death...
The little death...
It's strange but nice
To have no future or past
If you can't stand the heat
You better turn up the gas
I nod as if I know
And she can't say I haven't tried
She hadn't lived until she tried
She hadn't lived until she tried
The little death...
The little death...
