At the age of sixteen
I grew out of hope
I regarded the cosmos
Through a circle of rope

So I threw out my plans
Ran on to the wheel
And emptied my head
Of all childish ideals

The sleep of no dreaming
The sleep of no feeling

I married the first girl
Who wasn't a man
And smiled as the spiders
Ran all over my hands

Made a good living
By dying it's true
As the world in my TV
Leaked onto my shoes

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