Lyrics:

On a telegraph pole
An assassin is training his soul
Locked up in a fancy room
Not very far from doom
Intoxicated kids
Are ready to quit
His desires they scatter
His nerves they shatter
No window to see
No door to flee
The heart-attack machine
Is out of gear
The mighty nightmare-employer
Professor of paranoia
Is stealing near
Seven miles from here
Smoke coming out of their eyes
Insanity-tigers are licking his hands
A short romance
A vaporised dance