| My mind’s gone blank
|
| I love this cage so I’m not gonna rattle
|
| And I’ve spent my life with these four walls
|
| The walls are heaven-sent
|
| The nickel and mortar and the cracks in them
|
| Have long since been removed
|
| And through the foggy mist I’m sure I can
|
| I can but recollect
|
| I paid for each brick here
|
| Let me make this fucking clear
|
| I’ve got a limit attached to my leg
|
| With all the time inside my head
|
| The failure of the superego
|
| Let me make things comfortable
|
| But if you look inside my eyes
|
| You’ll see the swirling mist is blind
|
| Another scrum with dimwits at the helm
|
| And I still recall
|
| With your help
|
| A time when
|
| We looked around
|
| And we were not the only ones
|
| To be excited
|
| To be violent
|
| To be free
|
| Well let me make this loud now
|
| I won’t accept a pitied child
|
| So quick to listen
|
| With a metal pulse and phoney charming smile
|
| And the critics at the sail
|
| Would be an insult to what we have tried to create
|
| We are the membranes and the foetal canals
|
| You’ll bleed for the surprise
|
| We’ll trap your worlds in a coffin of spite
|
| We’ll bleed your worlds dry
|
| We are the membranes and the foetal canals
|
| You’ll bleed for the surprise
|
| We’ll trap your worlds in a coffin of spite
|
| We’ll bleed your worlds dry
|
| And I’ve spent my life with these four walls
|
| The walls are heaven-sent
|
| The nickel and mortar and the cracks in them
|
| Have long since been removed
|
| And through the foggy mist I’m sure I can
|
| I can but recollect
|
| I paid for each brick here
|
| And I’ve spent my life
|
| With sound advice
|
| In solitude
|
| In black and white
|
| We are the membranes and the foetal canals
|
| You’ll bleed for the surprise
|
| We’ll trap your worlds in a coffin of spite
|
| We’ll bleed your worlds dry |