Welcome to where time stands still
No one leaves and no one will
Moon is full, never seems to change
Just labelled mentally deranged

Dream the same thing every night
I see our freedom in my sight
No locked doors, no windows barred
No things to make my brain seem scarred

Here are two elements that I love in setting a tone of dread and unease in any story: a leaky faucet and an unreliable narrator.

Oh yeah, and the very idea of being locked away in a mental asylum absolutely terrifies the everlasting hell out of me.

Let’s consider, if we can (can we?), the ultra-tropey Hollywood vision of the mental asylum. The crumbling, monochromatic building, flickering fluorescent lights, leaky ceilings, and sketchy medical goons who have the absolute authority to decide whether you’re a functioning human being or an animal that belongs locked in a cage.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. 12 Monkeys. American Horror Story: Asylum. And your choice of a zillion horror movies. Take your pick.

And before anyone gets a case of the twisty knickers, yes, of course I understand that Hollywood’s portrayal of psychiatric institutions isn’t representative of modern mental health care.

I mean, I don’t judge your average everyday pagan by the mountain of occult horror films I watch every year. If I did that, I’d hold you to the standard of Simon: King of the Witches, and believe you me you don’t want that.

(Bonkers movie, by the way. Go track it down somewhere.)

But anyway, the thought of being trapped somewhere against your will, stripped of your humanity, with absolutely no say in whether you’re ever allowed to leave? Yeah that gets entirely under my skin.

Which brings us to the latest Buttkickin’ Halloween Songs selection, Welcome Home (Sanitarium) by Metallica, from their landmark 1986 album Master of Puppets (which has been one of your host’s top 10 favorite albums since 1987ish).

So this one’s especially meaningful to me. I kicked off this October in Las Vegas, attending the opening weekend of Metallica’s Life Burns Faster residency at the Sphere. Two nights, completely different setlists, mind-blowing visuals, and enough mayhem to leave me spinning and grinning like a 16-year-old metal lunatic.

And at my age, that’s a good thing.

And yeah, they played Welcome Home (Sanitarium), my favorite Metallica song from my favorite Metallica album, on the second night. I almost wept.

But let’s get back to our playlist selection, shall we? The song opens with a dark, repeating guitar motif and descending harmonics that remind me of a leaky faucet in an abandoned institutional bathroom.

Drip, drip, drip… Nobody’s fixed the damn thing in forty years, and nobody ever will.

Then James Hetfield’s central riff comes in, Kirk Hammett’s haunting guitar lines take shape, and Lars Ulrich and Cliff Burton establish that unmistakable rhythmic foundation.

And boom! Suddenly we’re inside the narrator’s head. Isolation. Monotony. Rage. Dreams of freedom. The unbearable sensation of being treated like an animal while others decide your fate.

That’s when you start questioning reality. Is this treatment or control? Rehabilitation or experimentation?

Hetfield drew inspiration from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and as the song progresses, the music grows increasingly furious, reflecting the narrator’s descent from weary resignation into thoughts of violence, revenge, and murder.

What’s fascinating is trying to figure out who the narrator really is. A sane man wrongfully imprisoned and systematically driven insane? Or someone genuinely suffering from profound mental illness, whose deteriorating perceptions have transformed his caretakers into jailers?

We don’t get a comfortable answer to that particular nugget, do we? And that’s what makes it all so disturbing. We’re trapped inside the narrator’s consciousness, experiencing his terror and fury without knowing how much of his reality we can trust.

And on top of all that psychological horror, Welcome Home (Sanitarium) just freakin’ rocks, man. Six and a half minutes of some of Metallica’s best songwriting, from that eerie, dripping opening through the ferocious final assault.

So spin this sucker up, Hokeyfolk. Imagine the flickering lights, the peeling paint, the footsteps echoing through the corridors, and the sound of a heavy door locking somewhere behind you.

And ask yourself how much of this resonates with your sensibilities.

Are you still entirely convinced that you’re the sane one?

Sleep my friend, and you will see
The dream is my reality
They keep me locked up in this cage
Can’t they see it’s why my brain says rage?

Sanitarium
Leave me be
Sanitarium
Just leave me alone…