I need a brain lift since this heart sank So sick of morons who left to the bank Sometimes I'm guilty of losing all pity Of boys with guitars who milk every lachrymosity Out on a Friday I prop up the bar I watch all the primates who never get far With every delusion they strut round the city They scratch in confusion overcome with lachrymosity Why so sad, so sad, so sad? So sad, so sad, so sad, I'm a recipe for disaster I'm a has been no good bastard You're much too good to me I'm wrapped in lachrymosity I'm a recipe for disaster I'm a has been no good bastard You're much too good for me I'm wrapped in lachrymosity Wrapped in lachrymosity Scars of the middle class as a puncheon for misery Nails in that sorrow is nigh on the riven tree Don't get me wrong it all sounds quite pretty Write some good songs and you'll have some lachrymosity You'll get some lachrymosity You'll have some lachrymosity, too