Faith, you're driving me away, you do it everyday.
You don't mean it but, it hurts like hell.
My brain, says I'm receiving pain, a lack of oxygen.
From my life support, my iron lung.
We're, too young to fall asleep, too cynical to speak.
We are losing it, can't you tell?
We scratch, our eternal itch, a twentieth century bitch.
And we are grateful for our iron lung.
The headshrinkers they want everything, my uncle Bill my Belisha beacon.
The headshrinkers they want everything, my uncle Bill my Belisha beacon.
Suck, suck your teenage thumb, toilet trained and dumb.
When the power runs out, we'll just hum.
This, this is our new song, just like the latest one.
A total waste of time, my iron lung.
The headshrinkers they want everything, my uncle Bill my Belisha beacon.
The headshrinkers they want everything, my uncle Bill my Belisha beacon.
And if you're frightened, you can be frightened.
You can be, it's ok.
And if you're frightened, you can be frightened.
You can be, it's ok.
The headshrinkers they want everything, my uncle Bill my Belisha beacon.
The headshrinkers they want everything, my uncle Bill my Belisha beacon.