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Made a man out of me A Killing machine Your baby's going to die Ma, your baby's coming home Your 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 rolls - Built up I suppose Picking up the pieces Of another fucked up reason For selling off some freedom That was never free 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 Cause I push against gravity In and out of having them Been led by defeat So one more time's all I'll need Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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