Text: Faith No More. Midlife Crises.

Go on and ring my neck
like when a rag gets wet
a little discipline
for my pet genius
my head is like a lettuce
go on and dig your thumbs in
I cannot stop giving
I`m thirty-something

Sens of security
like pockets jingling
Midlife Crises
suck ingenuity
down through the family tree

You`re perfest, yes, it`s true
but without me you`re only you
your menstruating heart
it ain`t bleedin`enough for two

it`s a Midlife Crises...

What an inhertance
the salt and the kleenex
morbid self attention
bending my pinky back
a little dicipline
rent an opinion

Sens of security
holding blunt instrument
I`m a perfectionist
and perfect is a skinnend knee

You`re perfect, yes, it`s true...