A cold steel womb. a distorted view
A deafening hum that won't be subdued
We've found our being within the churning, and the gears that are turning, but to what End?
This is not what I'm meant for, this is not what i am
A cog, a spoke in the machinery of men
That never takes us to where we haven't been
Is it too late to take this all back?
If i plant my feet upon this trail without a reason or destination
Then this ship has sunk before its sailed
An endless churning roar, a labyrinth of steel and ore
Our blood becomes the oil, a meaningless, purposeless toil
You are all mindless sheep
Just a piece of the machine
Keep fueling your hopeless dreams
They will never mean a thing
Detach: can we pull these wires from our veins?
Divide our flesh, our blood, our names
In the face of the machine i see my reflection stand and turn, as I walk
I'm never coming back