1,2,3

I no longer want to die but I feel more un-alive than I ever have before

I no longer want to thrive I want to sit at home behind my door

Yes I’m happy, yes I’m happy, yes I’m happy but I’m stuck

Yes I’m happy, yes I’m happy but I find it hard to give a fuck

Oh I was sitting down by the road hoping someone would run over my toes

Turn them into sacks of bones so they’re easier to sew

I got out a needle and thread as the children they marched and they said

We’re not happy, we’re not happy make us stuck just give us the meds

My toes were together and webbed as I began to get

Into the ocean and past the bay my new flippers got me far away

But even from here I could hear those juvenile jeers

Repeating back to me everything for them I had feared as they rang out loud and clear

We no longer want to die but we feel more un-alive than we ever have before

We no longer want to thrive we want to sit at home behind our doors

Yes we’re happy, yes we’re happy, yes we’re happy but we’re stuck

Yes we’re happy, yes we’re happy but we find it hard to give a fuck

But I’d sever my flippers if I could and give them away

Anything to help another escape this apathetic parade

But please break your toes too and find someone to give them to

Step out of line fall to the ground look to them and cry

And though no one will ask you why

Just let out an overdue sigh and say with a voice cracked and dry

That you no longer want to die but you feel more un-alive than you ever have before

You no longer want to thrive you want to sit at home behind your door

Yeah you’re happy, yeah you’re happy, yeah you’re happy but you’re stuck

Yeah you’re happy, yeah you’re happy but you find it hard, hard to give a fuck