Faith, you're driving me away
You do it everyday
You don't mean it
But it hurts like hell

My brain says I'm receiving pain
A lack of oxygen
From my life support
My iron lung

WE'RE TOO YOUNG TO FALL ASLEEP
TO CYNICAL TO SPEAK
We are losing it
Can't you tell?

We scratch our eternal itch
A twentieth century bitch
And we are grateful for
Our iron lung