Your Suicides

Your suicides
You do them with pride
You do them every year:
You hang yourself
From the branch of a tree
The branch it breaks, I fear

Your suicides
You do them with pride
That hotel in King's Cross:
You overdosed
On heroin
Till the use of a limb you lost

Your suicides
You do them with pride
That time you slashed your wrists:
Your blood it clotted
Quickly
Your blood was just too thick

Your suicides
You do them with pride
In your car with exhaust fumes:
Some nosy parker
Came along
Your suicide was doomed

Your suicides
You do them with pride
But are you really sincere?
You say some day you will succeed
But you're ninety-three next year

Yes, you're ninety-three (silly old sod, silly old sod)
You're ninety-three (silly old sod, silly old sod)
You're ninety-three next year (silly old sod, silly old sod)
Yes, you're ninety-three (silly old sod, silly old sod)
You're ninety-three (silly old sod, silly old sod) ...