For those who lose their grip In life's merry-go-round
And who get twisted to get security, the solution is a cell
And if you suffer from cell fear it is please go and be kind
Yes, he has clear instructions, he has training in nursing
So he can straighten his grip when the straitjacket has to be put on
And if you're still not grateful, there are syringes you can get
Yes, Doctor Hjälplös is a coward
So he treats a symptom, f is the disease itself
He doesn't want to cure it
And those who are thrown out of schools to a future without jobs
Before the machines take over so that the pace can pulled up
Before it pays off for the men at the top of the social ladder
Yes, they can escape from the boredom, with thinners and braj
And driving around the streets until the cop makes a raid
And stabs them for six hours because the cop himself is scary
Yes, Doctor Helpless is coward
So he heals a symptom, for the disease itself
He doesn't want to cure it
And in the quiet cold of the suburbs where the concrete makes a mute
And where the door chains bear witness to our loneliness
Yes, there are those yards that still remain for the service of white rooms
Cluttered with juke boxes and pinball machines
But though the law book gets bigger In step with our misery
It is as always the very measure of our justice
Yes, it's just as damn fair now as in Paris long ago
Where everyone was jailed who lived under the bridges
But if you think that infections can be cured with bandages
you are as stupid as the ostrich when terror takes hold;
For with the hood under the sand, you are unprotected back there
Yes, Doctor Hjälplös is a coward
So he treats a symptom, f is the disease itself
He does not want to cure it

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