At the age of sixteen
I grew out of hope
I regarded the cosmos
Through a circle of rope
So I threw out my plans
Ran on to the wheel
And emptied my head
Of all childish ideals

Sleep of no feeling
Sleep of no feeling
Sleep of no dreaming
Sleep of no dreaming

I married the first girl
Who wasn't a man
And smiled as the spiders
Ran all over my hands

Made a good living
By dying it's true
As the world in my TV
Leakes onto my shoes