Lyrics The Fall of Mr. Fifths - WHY?
Just
another
Sunday
Paddle-boat
ride
On
a
man-made
lake
With
another
lady
stranger.
If
I
remain
lost
and
die
on
a
cross,
At
least
I
wasn't
born
in
a
manger.
I
can
sense,
somewhere
right
Now
I'm
being
prayed
for.
Seems
like
I
always
arrive
At
the
same
shore
From
where
my
sails
set
Maybe
with
one
less
lady
Than
my
vessel
left
with.
Is
that
a
threat?
Oh,
I've
stayed
scarce
This
past
year,
yes.
But
be
assured
in
unrest:
I'm
unavoidable,
like
death
This
Christmas.
Is
this
twisted?
Why
be
upset?
I
never
said
I
Didn't
have
syphilis,
Miss
Listless
--
Hard
like
the
Bricks
I
pound
my
fists
with.
I
mean,
she's
hard
like
the
bricks
That
I
pound
with
my
fists.
This
is
"The
fall
of
Mr.
Fifths,
Forged
for
the
hordes
And
the
ladies
and
lords,
Set
with
fat
chords
In
modern
English.
I
know,
I
know,
There's
nothing
more
appealing
Than
the
sound
of
high
heels
Down
the
marble
tile
hallways
Of
your
districts
one
alloted
City-funded
Steiner
school,
Bilingual
or
Montessori,
Followed
by
a
single
High-pitched
scream,
Followed
by
breaking
glass.
But
could
your
anger
be
mapped
Into
an
interpretive
dance
To
a
trip-hop
track?
Could
it
be
Bowed
out
on
strings?
Or
strung
into
a
pattern
for
a
God's
eye
to
bring
To
your
alma-mater's
holiday
Fundraiser
boutique
thing?
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