Get Famous

When you haven't got any sense
And a sick ghastly pallor
'Well the poor kid never had a chance'
And people heard that you're dead
But you haven't left the city yet

Oh, get famous!
Even if it takes every white blood cell you ever, ever have

And when you haven't got any friends
And the pharmacist recommends a B-complex for this condition
'But we haven't, we haven't left the city yet
We stand to the side when the amtrack speeds by
We close our eyes and pretend that it's going to hit us
And try to decide to live or die'