We’re feeling safe and we’re feeling happy
No one can touch us here, we’re all on our own
The streetlight’s shining in the rain outside here
The floors are wooden and the walls made of stone

We don’t like the looks of our neighbour’s grubby washing
We don’t like the screams of our neighbour’s grubby child
Nobody’s perfect – except for us, of course
Our hands are clean and our minds are sterile

The lives we lead are pure without exemption
Our upper lips stiff but our backs without a spine
We close our eyes to the things we can’t face up to
No need for vision in the land of the blind

The knives in our pockets are long and well-sharpened
We stick them into people that we don’t even know
It’s not that we’re looking for a violent confrontation
But unconventionality we just won’t allow