The Grey Machines

The Grey Machines
Revolve in rhythm
Like a soundtrack for
A new religion
But in sixteen hours
There's fifteen 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