Here comes Mr. Misery. He's tearing out his hair again. He's crying over her again. He's standing in the super-market shouting at the customers. Here comes Mr. Misery. He'll never be any good with a mouth full of gold and blood. He's contemplating murder again. He must be in love. Chorus: But you know she doesn't want you. But you can't seem to get it in your head. Oh and you can't sleep at night. And she haunts you when you go to bed. When you're tired of talking and you can't drink it down. So you hang around and drown instead. Home isn't where it used to be. Home is anywhere you hang your head. You hang your head. Home is anywhere. You hang your head. Home is anywhere. You hang your head. Home is anywhere you hang your head. Here comes Mr. Misery. Looking for a place for his mouth to shoot. Saying "You'd look cute in your birthday suit". You tore him out and screwed him up. Like a bad page in a naughty picture book. They day ended as it began. As he was seconds older than the man he was this morning. And the world has wiped it's mouth since then. Or maybe it was yawning.