A heart that's full up like a landfill,
a job that slowly kills you,
bruises that won't heal.
You look so tired-unhappy,
bring down the government,
they don't, they don't speak for us.
I'll take a quiet life,
a handshake of carbon monoxide,
with no alarms and no surprises,
Silence, silence.
This is my final fit,
my final bellyache
with no alarms and no surprises,
Such a pretty house
and such a pretty garden.
No alarms and no surprises, please.
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