When the feeling takes me over, what else can I do but run? Through the corridors I follow, I shoot into oblivion; If you close your eyes and listen, you can hear the children play, I love it when their eyes are watching, I'll have it when they disobey.
It's a different kind of loving, such a dirty rigmarole, But just in case there's no tomorrow, I'll dring fire from their souls; If you close your eyes and listen, you can hear the children shout, I hate it but I win't be happy till I've turned them inside out.
