In a rut and indisposed   His blood runs cold   In a vacuum all his own   Nothing to hold      The black the white   They wall him from without   No roads to turn   Slowly he goes down...   On his knees on broken glass... down...   Vicious cycles going round again   That's the way it goes   Pretending they don't know      He thinks when it will end   His mind goes blank   His non-existent life   Goes with the wind      The black the white   They wall him from without   No roads to turn   Slowly he goes down...   On his knees on broken glass... down...   Vicious cycles going round again   That's the way it goes   Pretending they don't know