Like a bird without its cage.
Like a champ without its rage.
All your dreams that won't come true.
Little gods without a clue.

Their passion might stop you.
Their poison might drop you.
An artificial source.
Your eyes start endless wars.

Waiting for Machine
to bind our hands with disbelief
and to show us what they mean.

They'll end our soulless fight.
They'll stick you in the darkest room
and let you see their light.

You'll never see the plan;
it's dangled right in front.
The crowns worn in this world
swear in and curse in disbelief
your holy unholy bond.
The news,
your blinkers of reality.
Enjoy the news.
Enjoy the noose.