Daddy's in the paper and Mommy's in the Hollows.
Your sister's in the valley, she's coming up tomorrow.
Brother's at the neighbors and anyway you follow,
So tell me what you doing, with them making you a star.
I'm not getting any younger. Am I making it so far?
And everybody knows about you now.

'Cause some day, we'll all blow away,
Like butterflies and breezes on a windy day.

And some time, we'll all close our eyes,
And pray for all the kids committing suicide.

We got television.
We got drug addiction.
We got mommies and daddies
With clinical sadness and superstition.

So kill me. I don't wanna be a missionary.
All you with all your pain and all your bitchin'
Are you getting very far on elbows?

'Cause some day, we'll all blow away,
Like butterflies and breezes on a windy day.

And some time, we'll all close our eyes,
And pray for all the kids committing suicide.

We got television.
We got drug addiction.
We got mommies and daddies
With clinical sadness and superstition,
And superstition
And superstition,
And superstition,
And superstition,
And superstition,
And superstition,
And superstition,
And superstition,
And superstition,
And superstition.
Superstition.


Lyrics submitted by Ayavaron

The Funeral of Sigmund Shacklefurd song meanings
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