"The final song of our 
first burst of recording 
was the tale of a man 
driven mad by love, 
Home is Anywhere You Hang Your Head.
The music had started out 
as a bright pop melody
but now I placed it in an 
almost impossibly low register 
which made me sound as if 
I was either seething or gasping 
for breath.  'Method Singing', I suppose.
This was backed by a droning 
accompaniment and features 
some fine bass playing from 
Bruce in the coda as
accordions and spoons fly 
past his window."









Here comes Mr Misery
He's tearing out his hair again
He's crying over her again
He's standing in the supermarket 
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

(chorus)