Trapped Lyrics by Monks Of Doom

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Trapped:
a game of roulette,
a marble and wheel,
revolver & steel
while down on his luck,
a grimacing drunk--
he spins on his axis
on top of the table,
espousing his views.

In this familiar room, moods that may come to you--
how you contempt is renewed.
The train of thought running here
makes me see all too clear
how I'm like everyone I can remember I knew.

Trapped:
supply & demand,
mathematics & facts,
computed, revealed,
the secrets concealed;
displaced in this day--
the weight of an age!
A hideous scheme,
horizons of steel.

Walking on tightropes
there lost in my neighborhood--
all streets I know very well.
Wandering aimlessly, wavering endlessly,
leaving today for the next town that gets in the way,

Trapped:
by fear in my voice--
I struggle to speak,
I struggle to reach
that tone in your voice,
the onset of fear--
it spins like the world
(as is everything near,
just from breathing the air).

Trapped by my point of view,
locked in a waiting room where we have smothered desire.
Lost in a notebook who's heartstrings sing out to you,
coming to terms with the slow spiteful passing of years.
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Lyrics

Trapped Lyrics

Trapped:
a game of roulette,
a marble and wheel,
revolver & steel
while down on his luck,
a grimacing drunk--
he spins on his axis
on top of the table,
espousing his views.

In this familiar room, moods that may come to you--
how you contempt is renewed.
The train of thought running here
makes me see all too clear
how I'm like everyone I can remember I knew.

Trapped:
supply & demand,
mathematics & facts,
computed, revealed,
the secrets concealed;
displaced in this day--
the weight of an age!
A hideous scheme,
horizons of steel.

Walking on tightropes
there lost in my neighborhood--
all streets I know very well.
Wandering aimlessly, wavering endlessly,
leaving today for the next town that gets in the way,

Trapped:
by fear in my voice--
I struggle to speak,
I struggle to reach
that tone in your voice,
the onset of fear--
it spins like the world
(as is everything near,
just from breathing the air).

Trapped by my point of view,
locked in a waiting room where we have smothered desire.
Lost in a notebook who's heartstrings sing out to you,
coming to terms with the slow spiteful passing of years.
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