So I turned on the radio and everyone was

listening to chicken jazz...



See that man over there...

He's got cold feet

He'd march to the drum

But the drummer's

Dead beat

He's fragile tonight

But he says he's clean

He's uncertain when he's speaking

But he knows what he means

Ah he's shivering now

But he don't look cold

He say

Turn up the weather

So I do as I'm told

Do you know about empty

Die a little inside

Cos he hasn't lived until he's died

You couldn't have lived until you've tried

He hasn't lived until he's died



The Little Death...



See that woman over there

She got cold feet

She'd march to the drum

But the drummer's 

Dead beat

She reach for the sky

But the sky turn black

She hanging by her nails

but her knuckles just cracked

She said, "It's strange but nice to have no

future or past

If you can't stand the heat

you just turn up the gas"

I nod as if I know she can't say I haven't tried

Cos she hasn't lived until she's died

you couldn't have lived until you've tried

She hasn't lived until she's died



The Little Death...



_________________________________________________

*written by Bob Geldof & Pete Briquette

*from the album entitled "V-Deep"