Beneath the night in Lancster West
There is a man like stone and steel
And in his home he is a guest
That would feel bad if he could feel

Around the man the air is still
His eyes are dry but show no pain
He has no guilt, he has no will
Because this man, he is not sane

You might suspect that he is dead
You might suspect that he’s not free
Alas those words can not be said
Or so they say on the TV

He goes to work he pays his bills
He spends his wage he plays his role
He plans his time and eats his pills
And yet he can not find his soul

But is it ‘cus he did not pray?
Did he grow up without his heart?
Or was it lost along the way?
Why can’t he find his missing part?

Because this man he will not look
A piece of meat that’s born to die
He’s dangling on his rusty hook
And wants to buy and buy and buy