Well, Harry had a good job working' for the Secret Service

He had a wife and kids at home who made him awful nervous


He'd never done a damn thing you could call experimental


And he had this aching feeling that his life was accidental




So one day he burned his pinstripe suit and his leather shoulder holster


He snapped a Polaroid and made a giant wanted poster

He took it to a print shop and ordered up a thousand flyers


And walked next door to the laundromat and blew his brains out in the drier




And the tag on his toe read: Death by misadventure


Ain't that some way to go? Death by misadventure




Well, Harry's wife Estella took this matter rather lightly


She could have cried and cried but then her looks might come unsightly


She thought about her wardrobe and how much it was outdated

And how this trumped up family thing was vastly overrated





Her kids both turned against her and they took to drugs and stealing

Some junkie killed 'em both for two dime bags they were dealing


And sitting home alone disgusted by it all


She blew the sole survivor off with ninety Nembutals




And the tag on her toe read: Death by misadventure


Ain't that some way to go? Death by misadventure




So be careful how you choose your path and who you pick to go with


Some folks they take to living fast while some prefer a slow death

Some folks get confused and never quite know how they're going


When you're laid out on that slab we're all the worse for knowing




That the tag on your toe reads: Death by misadventure


What a silly way to go. Death by misadventure