If this machine doesn't stop, what will you do if it never goes out
Never goes out of season
It never stops as it turns, there ain't no passion, yet it burns
Introducing my prison
Losing myself in this place, soon I'm gone without a trace
Freed with that final incision
Look my heart it's a bird, it needs to sing and to be heard
Not this clockwork precision
And the machine grows idiotic
Who's gonna be its ingenious critic
Everybody loves the perfect solution
To beat the odds against the poorest possible substitution
What you see is never what you're gonna get
Everybody's playing revolution roulette
Leaves you no arguments to trade, you can try the key or you can wait
But the lock will not open
So you're left with sanity to lose, cos the machine is a ruse
Another invention to rule them
It's like a fistful of snake eyes, a hand grenade with bye byes
Like a million spent on nothing
It's kinda like a pick in their lock, when you never went "knock knock, hello, anybody home?
I'm coming in".
With a touch of foreboding
And the machine grows parasitic
Who's gonna critisize the good critic