I remember having seen this Mr. Beat somewhere before,
Sitting in a subway to the point of no return.
Obviously he seems to be a rather melancholic person,
Starring into nowhere, trapped in Ingmar Bergmans' films.

Hey Mr. Beat! What was the reason for your ecstasy?
"Boy, I don't know."
Hey Mr. Beat! Where is your sense for all this tragedy?
"Boy, I don't know."
Hey Mr. Beat! Tell us about your lack of sympathy for...
"So, so and so."
Please, Mr. Beat! Why did you mention a conspiracy?
"I really don't know."

I remember having seen this Mr. Beat sometime before,
Dressed up as a superhero they used to call "Loserboy".
Obviously he seems to have the same spleen as Cassandra:
He sees and hears what other people never ever recognize.

Hey Mr. Beat! Why do you talk with such vulgarity?
"Boy, I don't know."
Well, Mr. Beat, why is your life such a catastrophy?
"Boy, I don't know."
Hey Mr. Beat! Why do you act with such brutality?
"So, so and so."
Please, Mr. Beat! Why didn't you switch to normality?
"I really don't know, but let me tell you something..."

I was walking down the sidewalk of old Humpty-Dumpty-Street,
As this guy was laughing at me, standing there and eating sweets.
He went out to look for trouble so I shot him in the head:
Surprise, surprise, he dropped down dead.
It is more than just a passion to end other peoples lifes,
It's a heavenly posession, it's a high-speed-psycho-ride.
Put your finger on the trigger, pull the trigger and it's done:
Surprise, surprise, I don't mind that you're gone, no.