Self Suicide Lyrics - Greatest Hits - Goldie Lookin Chain

I'm gonna lie on my back 

An' you put your fingers down my mouth, right 

No, no, do it right, like, augh ugh 

I'm gonna do a Jimi Hendrix, eugh 

I'm gonna be sick in my sleep, eugh, augh ahu ugh 

I tries to do it proper but it kept comin' up a cropper 

I needs some hype, I think I'll ram raid happy shopper 

Haven't got a car so I use a space hopper 

Bouncin' to the window, cut my head, show stopper 

I want a hundred fans, 200 teeny boppers 

I want police protection from 87 coppers 

I wanna go gold, even better platinum 

If you wanna be a star you gotta kill yourself, man 

It's the truth, step back, take a look around 

Elvis is dead for bein' fat, 500 pound 

Kurt Cobain's rich as fuck, he's buried in the ground 

Jimi Hendrix an' his amp still ain't makin' no sound 

Michael Hutchence, he's one of 'em too 

Made a hundred million quid dying wanking on the loo 

S.U.I.C.I.D.E. 

It might be messy but it's money for free 

Suicide is painless or so it has been said 

I could've killed myself but I'd be better off dead 

So I took a deep breath, put a gun against my head 

Pulled the trigger, click, should've been eatin' lead 

But I wasn't, I was naked in John Frost Square 

Mothers on pushchairs stopped an' stared 

For this situation I was quite unprepared 

Tried suicide to be famous but nobody cared 

Committin' suicide to enhance my career 

It worked for Mickey an' Tupac Shakir 

Jesus was nailed up to some wood 

2000 years later an' book sales are still good 

I heard in a song suicide is painless 

An' it's 80 percent sure to make you famous 

Wankin' with a bag on yer head, tied to a door 

That bloke from INXS, he knew the score 

S.U.I.C.I.D.E. 

It might be messy but it's money for free 

S.U.I.C.I.D.E. 

It might be messy but it's money for free 

I gotta kill myself, I gotta do's it quick 

John Entwistle sly, he was snortin' arsenic 

I keep takin' all this coke to make me die 

Doin' more drugs than they make in fuckin' ICI 

It's the best way to go, don't think me dull 

I'm not gonna fall off the roof like the flid Rod Hull 

We want people to sing all our songs 

And the nuns at St. Joseph's rappin' on smokin' bongs 

We wanna be remembered when we're six feet under 

For hip hoppin' not robbings, fuckin' beatings or plunder 

At the moment I'm not dead like David Kampasey 

Double platinum means you gotta be pushin' up daisies 

Dad's army's all dead, every last one 

But the cunts is still goin' on BBC1 

Yeah, that's right, I smoke draw from Wales 

Suicide's a good idea to improve vinyl sales 

It's useless, it's crap, I'll never be in the sun 

How can I be a pop star when I can't buy a gun? 

Jimmy Morrison overdosed in the bath 

I know, I'll hang myself with my scarf 

Tied to the stairs, danglin' by my neck 

The cord length I forgot to check 

Stuck there for a week, unable to shriek 

The landlord found me an' he called me a freak 

He cut me down an' started to laugh 

"If you're dead next week gimme your autograph" 

You know I thanked him, returned to my room 

The new plan is to go out with a boom 

To the station, with a petrol can 

"Five pound please", I say to the man 

All set up an' ready to burn 

The wheel on my lighter just won't turn 

Suicide is a suicyclebbl 

Suicide is a suicyclebbl 

Suicide is a suicyclebbl 

I wanna be famous after I die 

Proven fact, man, if you're dead you sell more 

That drummer from Def Leppard 

His arm has made 30 times more than he has 

You know that our Elvis? Well, he's dead famous now 

And he's dead and he's face, he's more famous now like 

He's dead like you know, I, I suppose what a lot like 

Fuckin' simple economics 

They reckon Bob Marley's dead 

But he's not, man 

'Coz he was on the TV last night, man 

Just don't lie to me, man 

I thought I was havin' a go at an overdose 

But I, I, I don't think you can overdose on Beecham's Flu Plus 

I think one of the blokes off of Dad's army is still alive 

I think he's bummin' Martin in Eastenders, innit? 

I'll get the ropes an' we'll tie them to the walls 

An' we all jump off at the same time an' break our necks 

An' we'll make at least 13 quid an' you knows we'll be famous 

like fuckin' Gandhi or, or like the bloke off that sex film we seen