With the conformity to a design, controlling of minds
The perfect machine will master your evening dreams
For if one can't imagine it, then how can they desire?
Our minds have no purpose, unless they fit the theme
Lives have worth, so the machine seeks to make them fit
We are born unique, but over time, we've stopped caring
So in time we've given back all of our agency
And the machine smiles, denying our free will
Our ideas, personalities, ideals and joys become lost
As our sharpest edges have all been worn smooth
We offer up our flesh and beauty as proof
We shouldn't wonder why, we've enough evidence
To know that the machine is at work, to make us shine
It polishes, harvests, works upon us ever faithfully
Endlessly crushing our minds, grinding flesh, it runs
We've become gears of the machine, becoming one
So flawless, perfect, it is endless, listen as it hums
