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