| My mind’s gone blank | 
| I love this cage so I’m not gonna rattle | 
| And I’ve spent my life with these four walls | 
| The walls are heaven-sent | 
| The nickel and mortar and the cracks in them | 
| Have long since been removed | 
| And through the foggy mist I’m sure I can | 
| I can but recollect | 
| I paid for each brick here | 
| Let me make this fucking clear | 
| I’ve got a limit attached to my leg | 
| With all the time inside my head | 
| The failure of the superego | 
| Let me make things comfortable | 
| But if you look inside my eyes | 
| You’ll see the swirling mist is blind | 
| Another scrum with dimwits at the helm | 
| And I still recall | 
| With your help | 
| A time when | 
| We looked around | 
| And we were not the only ones | 
| To be excited | 
| To be violent | 
| To be free | 
| Well let me make this loud now | 
| I won’t accept a pitied child | 
| So quick to listen | 
| With a metal pulse and phoney charming smile | 
| And the critics at the sail | 
| Would be an insult to what we have tried to create | 
| We are the membranes and the foetal canals | 
| You’ll bleed for the surprise | 
| We’ll trap your worlds in a coffin of spite | 
| We’ll bleed your worlds dry | 
| We are the membranes and the foetal canals | 
| You’ll bleed for the surprise | 
| We’ll trap your worlds in a coffin of spite | 
| We’ll bleed your worlds dry | 
| And I’ve spent my life with these four walls | 
| The walls are heaven-sent | 
| The nickel and mortar and the cracks in them | 
| Have long since been removed | 
| And through the foggy mist I’m sure I can | 
| I can but recollect | 
| I paid for each brick here | 
| And I’ve spent my life | 
| With sound advice | 
| In solitude | 
| In black and white | 
| We are the membranes and the foetal canals | 
| You’ll bleed for the surprise | 
| We’ll trap your worlds in a coffin of spite | 
| We’ll bleed your worlds dry |