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 some 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 rose
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
