Made a man out of me

A killing machine


Your baby's going to die ma


Your baby's coming home




You know, they put a man on the moon


Simply to prove that we all need a place to go

Where we're not known, where we're not


And to a lesser degree




I can recall breathing easy


But the deficit rolls, built up I suppose


Picking up the pieces of another $#&@ed up reason

For selling of some freedom that was never free





Well, never absolutely, never absolutely

Made a mess out of me


A killing machine


Sometimes when I need them




If I look hard enough to see them


I can find my feet as I push against gravity

In and out of having them been led by defeat


So one more time's all I need