The Man Without A Name

I watch the clock

and see my time go down the drain.

I'm just waiting for the weekend

to numb the brain.

I am a man without a face,

without a name.

I keep occupied,

so I don't have time to feel.

I stand in line, 'til the end of time.

I feel so much safer with my hands tied,

I can't make it on my own.

There's bars on my window,

but I don't mind the pain.

I did what I was told,

still I'm free like a slave.

I settle for the chains

and the foodplate on the table.

Still there's moments in the dark,

"is this really what I asked for?"

I stand in line, 'til the end of time.

I feel so much safer with my hands tied,

I can't make it on my own.

The train of mystery, it's calling me.

The train of mystery knows what I long for.

It takes me to my place somewhere

Destination's unknown.