Happiness - Wilco

My mother says I’m great

And it always makes me sad

I don’t think she’s being nice

I really think she believes that

So now I bend my days around the people

Other people obey, whoa

So sad it’s nothing

Happiness depends on who you blame

I gather things can change

So maybe she’s asleep in her grave

She gave her body to science

So I’m not sure what’s in her place

Maybe roses or Tanqueray, whoa

So sad it’s nothing

Happiness depends on who you blame

I know the dead still listen

She sings a part of every refrain

Under the weight of the living

Pointing a finger

With no eyes to aim, whoa

So sad it’s nothing

It’s absolutely nothing

So sad it’s nothing

It’s absolutely nothing

So sad it’s nothing

Happiness depends on who you blame