| I found the bones of all your ghosts
|
| Locked in the wishing well
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| While birdsong gourmets dragged empty nets
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| I slumbered in my shell
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| Im Mitternacht, die Mensch-Maschine
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| Kissed me on my eyes
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| I rose and left the fire-ladies
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| Glowing lonely in the night
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| With all the pornographers
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| Burning torches beneath the sea
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| I want to be a machine
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| I want to be a machine
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| I want to be a machine
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| I stole a cathode face from newscasts
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| And a crumbling fugue of songs
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| From the reservoir of video souls
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| In the lakes beneath my tongue
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| In flesh of ash and silent movies
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| I walked that boulevard again
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| A nebula of unfinished creatures
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| From the lifetimes of my friends
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| I howled your innocence has depraved me
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| I want to be a machine
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| I want to be a machine
|
| I want to be a machine
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| Broadcast me, scrambled clean
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| Or free me from this flesh
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| Let the armchair cannibals take their fill
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| In every cell across wilderness
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| We’ll trip such a strangled tango
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| We’ll waltz a wonderland affair
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| Let’s run to meet the tides tomorrow
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| Leave all emotion dying there
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| In the star cold
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| Beyond all of your dreams
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| I want to be a machine
|
| I want to be a machine
|
| I want to be a machine
|
| Ah! |