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 fucked up reason

For selling off 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