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...