You’ve got a mouth like a running motor
And a family of mismatched gears, grinding
And gnashing furiously against rusted teeth
Shrieking, careening, holding sanity hostage
Turning all of your consolidated wrongs into
Your own personal brand of justified bullshit
As the rest of your brainwashed system starts
Automatically nodding along in pure assent
Necks pulled up, snapped limp, dangling in
Blank-slate eyes masking their lifeless cries
Idiots imitating your inescapable idiosyncrasies
I would hate to be blunt but maybe they deserve it
And the clamorous crashing of metal only sounds like
Music to your own bleeding ears, deafened by the violence
So spare me the pretence of a well-oiled dynamic, will you?
Because unlike them, I’m not one of your damaged fucking machines.