words by Robert Jan Stips

it is not strange to be a psychopath
the world we're living in goes straight above
there is a reason to feel so alone
when there's every night a panter on your telephone

it's really hard today to find some truth
there's even acid in your apple juice
i don't think it's too hard to understand
there are people who don't even trust a helping hand
they prefer to drawn in water than in the drifting sand

some of them have already cast their dice
they hide in alcohol or jesus christ
and others grew completely out of bounds
now the festival of violence is all around
and the cry of one's despair is no more than a sound

it isn't strange to get a heart attack
since we've got nothing like a tail to wag
all our frustrations heaping up inside
make the doctors Jekyll change into the Misters Hide

so many people feeling hook and eyed
there is no law that makes it justified
you cannot rise against the common herd
cause the only thing that counts for them is yellow dirt
it's the fancy price of living in a gruesome world

you took the chance to leave the beaten track
you are unsticked, it's such a strange effect
you're feeling more than just a substitute
so you better not fly too high in your selfish mood
as you know you have been born without a parachute