| Conscious, a slave to the clock
|
| Bar codes, lock down the machine
|
| Finger prints stripped, and left at the door
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| Devour the fruit, and discard the core
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| Begging for scraps, and learn how to sit
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| Who demands for it anyway?
|
| Programmed, return to the hive
|
| The only exit’s when you’re eaten alive
|
| Don’t forget at the end of the day
|
| You’re not cared for anyway
|
| Broken hopes, a sign of success
|
| Metal walls designed to suppress
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| Graft the soul to the hand that feeds
|
| Callousd skin, a sign of production
|
| Collective purpose, xpanding the cell
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| Metal walls, encasing this hell
|
| The scent, of fumes, sickens me
|
| Shackled ankles never to be free
|
| White lights, replace, the sky
|
| Uniformed and waiting to die
|
| Oppressed, breathing despair
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| Suffocate, deficient of truth
|
| Pressure, those who keep busy
|
| Emaciate, positions down low
|
| Tendered, just enough to survive
|
| Taxing, on body and mind
|
| Failure, to keep up the pace
|
| Promises to repair the failing body
|
| Expendable, discard and replace
|
| Abandoned, in a useless state
|
| Decimation, in its wake
|
| Gears turn, lumbering forward
|
| Alive, while in a grave
|
| Salt, the earth, oil the machine
|
| Castrate, for display, save the best cuts for last
|
| Conserve, the breath, stay alive
|
| Morals, tarnished, the ladder points up
|
| The weights, too strong, gravity pulls down
|
| Wings clipped, eyes shut, purgatory
|
| Awake, in regret, beg for release
|
| A noose, is the gate, leading out |