Poor, poor Frankie Teardrop. He's married, he's got a kid, working in a factory. Poor, poor Frankie Teardrop. He can't make it! Frankie's been fired!
Oh pooooooor Frankie. He doesn't know what else to do, so Frankie gets his shotgun.
If you guys can't get what's going to happen next in a scary song like this. You might need some real help.
Punctuated by "singer" Alan Vega's ear-shattering shrieks, Frankie kills his wife and kid and then himself in what is easily one of the most fucked-up songs I have ever heard in my life. By the time we reach the middle of the song (which lasts ten fucking minutes), all we're left with is Vega's screaming and the looping drum machine track that has been the only accompaniment in the entire song.
We're treated to one last verse. Frankie's dead. Lying in hell. Vega states that "we're all Frankies[...]all lying in hell," a signification that we all can easily be one step away from complete madness. Vega finalizes the song with one final scream.
Poor, poor Frankie....Poor, poor us.
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