I see them on TV,
Lying under a tree,
All I can think of is how hard their lives would be
All they do is shriek and groan,
It's like an endless moan,
Wish I could throw them all off a cliff.

I'd like to see them spend a week,
Lying in the middle of the street,
Waiting for a car to run them over,
And after a day or two,
They will be ready to,
Be taken to the morgue
They will be Mort
Mort

Lifestyles of the mortally wounded
They're lying on the ground, all the time
Maybe they would react
If we brand them, with burning cattle prods

When they are in the morgue
No family in remorse
Cause all these losers never have real lives

Now my buddy over here
Now he has no fear
Sometimes intestines just explode
And my other mate he's dead
Yes that's right he lost his head
Now he just lies there in his bed
A beautiful blood red.
Red

Lifestyles of the mortally wounded
They're lying on the ground, all the time
Maybe they would react
If we brand them, with burning cattle prods

Lifestyles of the mortally wounded
They're lying on the ground, all the time
Maybe they would react
If we brand them, with burning cattle prods