Besedila: Bauhaus. The Sky's Gone Out. In The Night.

In the night, in the chair
He sits there, he sits tight
No more cans, no more crime
See the place, see the time

You never know

He walks light, don't know how
Maybe now, in the night
Oh, I know, yes I know
There's no chat
He's for show

You never know

Sees the place and tries to get the time
He's slowly slipping into the slime
Can't inject into his veins
Blood and guff ooze out and stain
Cares not that he really bleeds
Death not hell is what he needs
Sees the place, checks the time
Some other place, some other time

You never know

Slipping up and down his writhing side
His eyes begin to ponder pride
Subjective pics of misled youth
Before him lies the dreadful truth
Undignifiled, Insignified
His wrist on to the razor slides

You never know