SWEETMEAT. My engine is blown. My balance is thrown. I pushed myself up the hill. And fell to the kill. I degenerate. Collapsed at my gate. I challenged my weakened knees. And fell to disease. The higher we climb the wall. The longer the fall. The decline the defeat. The decay pickled me. Like a vinegar bath in a jar. Just like flies livin' off the sweetmeat. Have you met my dead friend Swollen the head?. Have I introduced you to my lung friend The Flu?. But friends that won't leave. Steal the air you breathe. They eat up your final food. None left for you. With smiling friends like these. Who needs enemies. CHORUS. And more with every hour that came I sank down. With smiling friends like these. There will be no peace