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 Sleep of no feeling Sleep of no feeling Sleep of no dreaming Sleep of no dreaming 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 Leakes onto my shoes