Lyrics:

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.

Suck 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 assaults

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.