A dilapidated house like the mind of a simpleton misused As he returns from a place that exists only in the news He washes his hands thirty times a day He breaks all the mirrors and sleeps wide awake With chemicals to take the guilt away Paralyzed and dull from a nightmare of violent noise Now there's silence, and for the first time he can hear his own voice But wasn't I authorized? Have I not been absolved? The guilt is only shared but not a bit dissolved! There's no excuse!