| Song | Sing for Your Meat |
| Artist | Guided by Voices |
| Album | Half Smiles of the Decomposed |
| 作词 : Pollard | |
| When you write | |
| About the boys | |
| Under friendly fire | |
| Dress ‘em up in suits | |
| And seek her to kill | |
| Freedom of the will | |
| Ours and, yes, yours | |
| Yesterday, today | |
| Onward marching on | |
| Come here Leon | |
| Don't paint your skin | |
| To the color of confection | |
| And turn away | |
| From every ghost you've been | |
| And sure enough | |
| I saw your head | |
| At the tent sale and fire auction | |
| For a taste and a chaser | |
| You're a solid gold debaser | |
| Can you ever be a boy | |
| Again, or have you stopped? | |
| Trade lost hours for a dare | |
| Burn the water, cook the air? | |
| And twenty-one | |
| Is the legal age | |
| To kill yourself slowly | |
| But eighteen | |
| Is the legal age to die | |
| Would I cast my vote | |
| Into the inside shit | |
| I'm often wont to crawl | |
| That's all | |
| Don't leave me now to drag my chains | |
| To a rhythm never changing | |
| Lost from found and beaten down | |
| When you write | |
| About the boys | |
| Under friendly fire | |
| Dress ‘em up in suits | |
| And seek her to kill | |
| Freedom of the will | |
| Ours and, yes, yours | |
| Yesterday, today | |
| Onward marching on |
| zuò cí : Pollard | |
| When you write | |
| About the boys | |
| Under friendly fire | |
| Dress ' em up in suits | |
| And seek her to kill | |
| Freedom of the will | |
| Ours and, yes, yours | |
| Yesterday, today | |
| Onward marching on | |
| Come here Leon | |
| Don' t paint your skin | |
| To the color of confection | |
| And turn away | |
| From every ghost you' ve been | |
| And sure enough | |
| I saw your head | |
| At the tent sale and fire auction | |
| For a taste and a chaser | |
| You' re a solid gold debaser | |
| Can you ever be a boy | |
| Again, or have you stopped? | |
| Trade lost hours for a dare | |
| Burn the water, cook the air? | |
| And twentyone | |
| Is the legal age | |
| To kill yourself slowly | |
| But eighteen | |
| Is the legal age to die | |
| Would I cast my vote | |
| Into the inside shit | |
| I' m often wont to crawl | |
| That' s all | |
| Don' t leave me now to drag my chains | |
| To a rhythm never changing | |
| Lost from found and beaten down | |
| When you write | |
| About the boys | |
| Under friendly fire | |
| Dress ' em up in suits | |
| And seek her to kill | |
| Freedom of the will | |
| Ours and, yes, yours | |
| Yesterday, today | |
| Onward marching on |