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...