| Here comes mr. |
| misery
|
| Hes tearing out his hair again
|
| Hes crying over her again
|
| Hes standing in the super-market shouting at the customers
|
| Here comes mr. |
| misery
|
| Hell never be any good with a mouth full of gold and blood
|
| Hes contemplating murder again
|
| He must be in love
|
| Chorus: but you know she doesnt want
|
| But you cant seem to get it in your head
|
| Oh and you cant sleep at night
|
| And she haunts you when you go to bed
|
| When youre tired of talking and you cant drink it down
|
| So you hang around and drown instead
|
| Home isnt where it used to be Home is anywhere you hang your head
|
| You hang your head
|
| Home is anywhere
|
| You hang your head
|
| Home is anywhere
|
| You hang your head
|
| Home is anywhere you hang your head
|
| Here comes mr. |
| misery
|
| Looking for a place for his mouth to shoot
|
| Saying «youd look cute in your birthday suit»
|
| You tore him out and screwed him up Like a bad page in a naughty picture book
|
| They day ended as it began
|
| As he was seconds older than the man he was this morning
|
| And the world has wiped its mouth since then
|
| Or maybe it was yawning |