I need a brain lift since this heart sank
So sick of morons who left to the bank
Sometimes I'm guilty of losing all pity
Of boys with guitars who milk every lachrymosity

Out on a Friday I prop up the bar
I watch all the primates who never get far
With every delusion they strut round the city
They scratch in confusion overcome with lachrymosity

Why so sad, so sad, so sad, so sad?
So sad, so sad...

I'm a recipe for disaster
I'm a has-been no-good bastard
You're much too good to me
I'm wrapped in lachrymosity

I'm a recipe for disaster
I'm a has-been no-good bastard
You're much too good for me
I'm wrapped in lachrymosity, wrapped in lachrymosity

Scars of the middle class as a puncheon for misery
Nails in that sorrow is nigh on the riven tree
Don't get me wrong it all sounds quite pretty
Write some good songs and you'll have some lachrymosity
You'll get some lachrymosity
You'll have some lachrymosity, too