Stranger Than Fiction Bad Religion
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Stranger Than Fiction" by Bad Religion. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1]
A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hopin' for a heart-attack
Tonight, the windows are watching, the streets all conspire
And the lamppost can't stop cryin'
If I could fly high above the world
Would I see a bunch of livin' dots spell the word "stupidity"?
Or would I see hungry lover homicides, lovin' brother suicides
And olly olly oxen frees who pick a side and hide?
[Pre-Chorus]
(Ah-ah-ah) The world is scratching at my door
(Ah-ah-ah) My morning paper's got the scores
(Ah, ah, ah) The human interest stories
And the obituary, oh yeah
[Chorus]
Cockroach naps, rattlin' traps
How many devils can you fit upon a match head?
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
[Verse 2]
In my alley 'round the corner, there's a wino with feathered shoulders
And a spirit givin' head for crack, and he'll never want it back
There's a little kid and his family eatin' crackers like Thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living
A febrile shocking violent smack
And the children are hopin' for a heart-attack
Tonight, the windows are watching, the streets all conspire
And the lamppost can't stop cryin'
If I could fly high above the world
Would I see a bunch of livin' dots spell the word "stupidity"?
Or would I see hungry lover homicides, lovin' brother suicides
And olly olly oxen frees who pick a side and hide?
[Pre-Chorus]
(Ah-ah-ah) The world is scratching at my door
(Ah-ah-ah) My morning paper's got the scores
(Ah, ah, ah) The human interest stories
And the obituary, oh yeah
[Chorus]
Cockroach naps, rattlin' traps
How many devils can you fit upon a match head?
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat
Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction
[Verse 2]
In my alley 'round the corner, there's a wino with feathered shoulders
And a spirit givin' head for crack, and he'll never want it back
There's a little kid and his family eatin' crackers like Thanksgiving
And a pack of wild desperadoes scornful of living
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