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 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