You gotta be crazy, you gotta have a real need/ You gotta sleep on your toes, and when you’re on the street/ You gotta be able to pick out the easy meat with your eyes closed/ And then moving in silently, down wind and out of sight/ You gotta strike when the moment is right without thinking./ And after a while, you can work on points for style/ Like the club tie, and the firm handshake/ A certain look in the eye, and an easy smile/ You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to/ So that when they turn their backs on you/ You’ll get the chance to put the knife in/

You gotta keep one eye looking over your shoulder/ You know it’s going to get harder, and harder, and harder as you get older/ And in the end you’ll pack up, fly down south/ Hide your head in the sand/ Just another sad old man All alone and dying of cancer/

And when you loose control, you’ll reap the harvest you have sown/ And as the fear grows, the bad blood slows and turns to stone/ And it’s too late to loose the weight you used to need to throw around/ So have a good drown, as you go down, all alone Dragged down by the stone/

I gotta admit that I’m a little bit confused/ Sometimes it seems to me as if I’m just being used/ Gotta stay awake, gotta try and shake off this creeping malaise/ If I don’t stand my own ground, how can I find my way out of this maze?/ Deaf, dumb, and blind, you just keep on pretending/ That everyone’s expendable and no-one has a real friend/ And it seems to you the thing to do would be to isolate the winner/ And everythings done under the sun And you believe at heart, everyone’s a killer/

Who was born in a house full of pain/ Who was trained not to spit in the fan/ Who was told what to do by the man/ Who was broken by trained personnel/ Who was fitted with collar and chain/ Who was given a pat on the back/ Who was breaking away from the pack/ Who was only a stranger at home/ Who was ground down in the end/ Who was found dead on the phone/ Who was dragged down by the stone