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...