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The Life and Times Of a Man Called Depression

The Specials


The truth is
It was hate at first sight
Starin' down the barrel of a man
With no real opinions
But with charm oozing from every pore
Just watch him glide across the floor
Does he turn left
Will he turn right?
Checks himself in the mirror
At least a thousand times a day
It's where truth collides with fiction
He stands before him
The last remaining Ginking of England
Fearless, ruthless, cheerless, clueless
But lookin' like a million dollars (Wow!)
The emperor has got new clothes

He stands accused
Of being socially inept
Some say rude, aloof
Devoid of any real truth
He lives in a world of self-doubt
Self-pity, self-loathing, self-harm
The voices inside his head
Are playing Chinese whispers
As all around him play hide and seek
But don't ask him to put a smile on that face
Or to cheer up
Don't tell him it might never happen
Because you know what
It probably already did
Maybe show him some understanding
Give him time, let him breathe
Let him live, yeah
The emperor has got new clothes

Guess what
The world ended yesterday
Today is just an action replay
And hell is wherever heaven is not
So here I stand
The well informed optimist
Who refuses to turn on
Tune in, and drop out
I refuse to lose control
I refuse to let it wash all over me
I refuse to succumb to what your vision
Of happy should look like
Because it certainly doesn't look like you
And when the sign says stop
That's when I go
Like a clean, mean
Medicated fighting machine
Who's all dressed up
And ready to disco
The emperor has got new clothes

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