The grey machines revolve in rhythm
Like a soundtrack for a new religion
But in 16 hours, there's 15 minutes
Where you get to rest and plan for death
This blue jumpsuit is red from torture
When I sold my vote to buy some water
But the toxins taste as sweet as murder
And the choice is stark, Bastille or spark?
Heard there's a world where free will is the law
Why do I need wings to fly when falling feels so sound?
Why do I need open skies when I can kiss the ground?
Here sleep's a dream as rare as laughter
Any hint of hope is manufactured
And nostalgia's now the one addiction
That they care to cure with brutal force
I've felt the fist, a glove of velvet
But they add barbed wire for extra torment
It's the only time there's satisfaction
In their lifeless eyes and loveless lives
Why do I need wings to fly when falling feels so sound?
Why do I need open skies when I can kiss the ground?
Oh, the grey machines
Revolve in rhythm
Oh, the grey machines
A new religion
Heard there's a world where free will is the law
Why do I need wings to fly when falling feels so sound?
Why do I need open skies when I can kiss the ground?
Oh, the grey machines
Revolve in rhythm
Oh, the grey machines
A new religion
Revolve in rhythm
A new religion
Revolve in rhythm
A new religion
