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.