Clean Lyric
Paragraph Lyric
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself back in that hole

Larry made his nest up in the autumn branches
Built from nothing but high hopes and thin air
Collected up some baby blasted mothers
They took their chances and for a while
They lived quite happily up there

He came from New York City, man
But he couldn't take the pace
He thought it was like a dog eat dog world
Then he went to San Francisco, spent a year in outer space
With a sweet little San Franciscan girl

I can hear my mother wailing
And a whole lot of scraping of chairs
I don't know what it is
But there's definitely something going on upstairs

Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself back in that hole
(I want you to dig, I want you to dig, I want you to dig)

Meanwhile Larry made up names for the ladies
Like Ms. Boo and Ms. Quick
He stockpiled weapons and took pot shots in the air
He feasted on their lovely bodies like a lunatic
And wrapped himself up in their soft yellow hair

I can hear chants and incantations
And some guy is mentioning me in his prayers
Well, I don't know what it is
But there's definitely something going on upstairs

Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself back in that hole
(I want you to dig, I want you to dig, I want you to dig)

Well, New York City, man
San Francisco, L.A., I don't know
But Larry grew increasing neurotic and obscene
I mean, he, he never asked to be raised up from the tomb
I mean, no one ever actually asked him to forsake his dreams

He ended up like so many of 'em do
Back in the streets of New York City
In a soup queue, a dope fiend, a slave
Then prison, then the mad house
Then the grave, oh, poor Larry

But what do we really know of the dead
And who actually cares?
Well, I don't know what it is
But there's definitely something going on upstairs

Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself back in that hole
(I want you to dig)

Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself back in that hole
(Dig Lazarus, dig)

Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself back in that hole
(I want you to dig)

Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself, Lazarus
Dig yourself back in that hole
Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself back in that hole      Larry made his nest up in the autumn branches   Built from nothing but high hopes and thin air   Collected up some baby blasted mothers   They took their chances and for a while   They lived quite happily up there      He came from New York City, man   But he couldn't take the pace   He thought it was like a dog eat dog world   Then he went to San Francisco, spent a year in outer space   With a sweet little San Franciscan girl      I can hear my mother wailing   And a whole lot of scraping of chairs   I don't know what it is   But there's definitely something going on upstairs      Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself back in that hole   (I want you to dig, I want you to dig, I want you to dig)      Meanwhile Larry made up names for the ladies   Like Ms. Boo and Ms. Quick   He stockpiled weapons and took pot shots in the air   He feasted on their lovely bodies like a lunatic   And wrapped himself up in their soft yellow hair      I can hear chants and incantations   And some guy is mentioning me in his prayers   Well, I don't know what it is   But there's definitely something going on upstairs      Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself back in that hole   (I want you to dig, I want you to dig, I want you to dig)      Well, New York City, man   San Francisco, L.A., I don't know   But Larry grew increasing neurotic and obscene   I mean, he, he never asked to be raised up from the tomb   I mean, no one ever actually asked him to forsake his dreams      He ended up like so many of 'em do   Back in the streets of New York City   In a soup queue, a dope fiend, a slave   Then prison, then the mad house   Then the grave, oh, poor Larry      But what do we really know of the dead   And who actually cares?   Well, I don't know what it is   But there's definitely something going on upstairs      Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself back in that hole   (I want you to dig)      Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself back in that hole   (Dig Lazarus, dig)      Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself back in that hole   (I want you to dig)      Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself, Lazarus   Dig yourself back in that hole