8 Slightly Dead Songtext
von Santa Hates You

Here comes the candle to light you to bed
Here comes the chopper to chop off your head
Chip, chop, chip, chop
The last one′s dead

I called up death today
He said he will be late
His alarm clock didn't go off
And he′s not feeling that great
He said, "I'm not hungover
I'm still drunk from last night
I′ll come when I get sober
I′m not a pretty sight"

He said
"Maybe not today
Maybe not tomorrow
But soon enough
I'll take away your sorrow
It′s sure as blood is red
You're all slightly dead"


We′re slightly dead, we're slightly dead
We′re all slightly dead
We're slightly dead, we're slightly dead
We′re all but slightly dead
We walk and talk, we eat our daily bread
Sometimes, we fuck, sometimes, we have no luck
You′re all slightly dead

Here comes the candle to light you to bed
Here comes the chopper to chop off your head
Chip, chop, chip, chop
The last one's dead

I called up death today
He said he will be late
He′s got no umbrella and it might rain
So I will have to wait
On top of that, he's feeling low
He just ran out of wine
And his goldfish is going through
A really tough time

He said
"Don′t kid yourself, my friend
There is no hope in sight
I will come when the time is right
It's a bloody dang safe bet
You′re all slightly dead"


We're slightly dead, we're slightly dead
We′re all slightly dead
We′re slightly dead, we're slightly dead
We′re all but slightly dead
We laugh and cry, we go off our heads
Sometimes, we fuck, sometimes, we have no luck

Chip, chop, chip, chop
The last one's dead

I talked to death today
He said he will be late
He didn′t sleep last night
Got into a sailors' fight
His horoscope is never true
And his fingers got stuck together with Krazy Glue

We′re slightly dead, we're almost dead
You're all slightly dead
We′re slightly dead, we′re almost dead
You're all slightly dead
We′re slightly dead, we're almost dead
We are so fucking dead
We′re slightly dead, we're almost dead
We are so fucking dead
We love and then we hate, we dream when we′re awake
We're geniuses and fools hanging by a thread
We're all slightly dead
You′re all slightly dead

You′re all slightly dead
Chip, chop, chip, chop
The last one's dead