But nothing happens every time I take one on the chin, You’re Himmler in your cote, You don't know how long I have been Watching the lantern dim, Starved of oxygen, So give me your hand and let's jump out the window.
I guess that it's typical To cling to memories you'll never get back again And to sort through old photographs Of a summer long ago or a friend that you used to know And there below His frozen face You wrote the name and that ancient date, that ancient date And you can't believe that he's really gone When all that's left is a fucking song