There's a boy in crimson rags
with a grimace and a spoon
and a little sullen
Girl face up staring at the moon
And there's no one around
to hear their lonesome cries
Then they pass away
alone into the night
Why do we pity the dead
Are you churned by emotion
from voices in your head
Look at all the living
and you'll ask yourself why
Oh why do we
Pity the dead
Well, you've seen the disease
suffering and decay
And you whisper to yourself
blissfully it's okay
And you still refuse
the possibility
That the dead are
better off than we
Why do we pity the dead
Are you churned by emotion
from voices in your head
Look at all the living
and you'll ask yourself why
Oh why do we
Pity the dead
Pity the dead
Tell me what you see
tell me what you know
Is there anyone
who lives a painless life
If there is show me so
The destitute and famished
demonic and the Banished
dejected and the ostracized the
Brainwashed and the paralyzed
the conquered And objectified
the few who see the other side
Tell me what you see
It's a mortal wretched cacophony
Let's go
<Interlude>
In the end you may find
there's no guiding subtle light
No ancestors or friends
no judge of wrong or right
Just eternal silence
and dormancy
And a final everlasting peace
Why do we pity the dead
Are you churned by emotion
from voices in your head
Look at all the living
and you'll ask yourself why
Why do we pity the dead
Why do we pity the dead
Why do we pity the dead
cked down
and they put you first in line
And so you finally ask yourself
just how big you are
and take your place in a wiser
world of bigger motor cars
<Intelrude>
So Where the hell was Biggles
when you needed him
last Saturday
And where were all the sportsmen
who always pulled you though
They're all resting down
in Cornwall
writing up their memoirs
for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual
See there! A man born