The Fall Of Mr. Fifths Lyrics

	Just another Sunday
	Paddle-boat ride
	on a man-made lake
	with another lady stranger.
	If I remain lost and die on a cross,
	at least I wasn't born in a manger.
	I can sense, somewhere right
	now I'm being prayed for.
	Seems like I always arrive
	at the same shore
	from where my sails set
	maybe with one less lady
	than my vessel left with.
	Is that a threat?
	Oh, I've stayed scarce
	this past year, yes.
	But be assured in unrest:
	I'm unavoidable, like death
	this Christmas. Is this twisted?
	Why be upset? I never said I
	didn't have syphilis,
	Miss Listless -- Hard like the
	bricks I pound my fists with.
	I mean, she's hard like the bricks
	that I pound with my fists.
	This is "The fall of Mr. Fifths,
	forged for the hordes
	and the ladies and lords,
	set with fat chords
	in modern English.
	I know, I know,
	There's nothing more appealing
	than the sound of high heels
	down the marble tile hallways
	of your districts one alloted
	city-funded Steiner school,
	Bilingual or Montessori,
	followed by a single
	high-pitched scream,
	followed by breaking glass.
	But could your anger be mapped
	into an interpretive dance
	to a trip-hop track? Could it be
	bowed out on strings?
	Or strung into a pattern for a God's eye to bring
	to your alma-mater's holiday
	fundraiser boutique thing?

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