I don't pretend I'm Napoleon, Jesus Christ nor Marx,
It's not that I dress like Elvis that I don't believe he's dead,
People mess up my playground,
Polute the way I feel,
Piss their rules in my sandcastle,
Graffiti of shame.

(chorus)
The asylum, the asylum is my home,
The asylum, the asylum is my home,
Bridges they are burning,
The fire it is yearning,
Loners keep the secrets,
They reveal them in their songs.

Tell me what my name was,
Tell me what's my aim,
Discovered the beast in me, it's my favourite pet,
Not the pills not the powders,
Strait-waistcoat nor shocks,
But twisted thoughts taken as logic
Chained me to this bed.

(chorus)
The asylum, the asylum is my home…

First I do some painting, then I cut my ear,
Next I write a diary, my pen dipped in tears,
It's good to stay very busy, my pretty analyst says,
But she never proposes for therapy: 'Won't you get laid ?'
(my darling)

(chorus)
The asylum, the asylum is my home…