A heart that's full up like a landfill,
A job that slowly kills you,
Bruises that won't heal.
You were so tired and happy,
Bring down the government,
They don't, They don't speak for us.
I'll take the quiet life,
A handshake, some carbon monoxide.
No alarms and no surprises,

Silent.
This is my final fit,
My final bellyache with

please.
Such a pretty house,
Such a pretty garden.