Suicide In Progress

There's a little animal, way up in the air My nose and tongue are roving, but maybe it's not there There's a little man now, in the middle of the earth He gives himself these orders and let it all be burned There are lots of makeshift wonders, seven in the world Five of them will not be noticed and three will not be heard There's a meal there's a window, there's a face that you can't see You can keep what you've stolen, just give it back to me I vow to taste my vengence, even if they dare (?) Maybe his time is coming, and maybe he's better off