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 of some freedom that was never free
  Well, never abseloutely
  Never abseloutely
    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