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Moving photos of ghostsProjected against the chemical smokeIt closes all around meA taste bitter as paint thinnerSwitch the sound off, breathe heavily,They haven't found me--Slouched over my desk,with my head pressing the keys orSitting up in bed, scene reflected by the screenBlood pounding in my temple,Remote controlled by the feedFingers slip between the blindsThis is what I see outside:vampires. pedophiles. secret police.Threat levels elevated for weeks.Feel my blood pressure peakBefore I snap the blinds shutHeart beating in the darkness,Eating from the boxHalf-conscious, half-lifeFull of sad nights spentRe-running my favorite programs over againLight glowing on my skinMy face shows no emotionI sink into the sofa like a city sinking into the ocean.SongtexteIs the kitchen in the house? Is the closet in the house?Is the bedroom in the house? Is the living room in the house?Alright then check me out:Lead paint peeling spreading stains in the ceilingRevealing rust, dust, roaches and rats,they make a killing. The smell of death is fillingWhat remains of the building53 sq. feet makes my cyphercompleteWhether drooling on my pillowOr laid out on my sheetsI keep falling, the TV keeps me falling asleep.The world is mine in my dreams.I see myself selling myself to myselfI feel like hell and cry for help til I'm heldUntil I'm safe in the arms of my home-bodyShut in. Nobody knocks on my door no moreNobody comes inThough I'm sure my existance is a topic of discussionThey must wonder what the fuck will be left of the mess uncoveredWhen they finally take a wrecking ball to my bedroom wallI will show them allsomething.Is the kitchen in the house? Is the closet in the house?Is the bedroom in the house? Is the living room in the house?I don't go out.I just wander the hallsFingers run along the crumbling wallsSick and deformed like the dip in the floorThe drip in the kitchen's on a missionto kill me off, I should've died in a crib fireAnd will before long. Smoke rising from the old wiringRing the alarmWish I could decorate the place with the smell of napalm.Barricade to save face, never answer the phoneStay away from the shades, try to vanish in the smokeI no longer know If I'm the cancer or the hostCan't manage to cope without damaging my throatUsed to make plans to go but they cancelled my showNow I watch Channel Zero for a pattern in the snowFrom the clock to the mirror to the carpet full of holesThings have gone well beyond a jobfor pest control...Is the kitchen in the house? Is the closet in the house?Is the bedroom in the house? Is the living room in the house? Aus Songtexte Mania