Roboturner
Crush us. Over and over again the years have come to this an improper art form.
Faking our own thoughts and sounds robots crush death of human-music.
Bright lights fill the sky track us through our fields of money
The old days seem shit and primitive abduction control you write for me. Oh, master
Master of the machines take this shit and make it gold.
Make my face sparkle with fame master of the machines
Fuck them hard and neglect their thoughts they will never see us coming
No more human voice no more duman actions imperfect fucks stand in the dark.
Crush us. Over and over again the years have come to this an improper art form.
Faking our own thoughts and sounds robots crush death of human-music.
Counteract this idea of control human emotion can only produce
The thoughtful finally discovering the idea of perfect harmony
This is the day we finally make beautiful notes again
But will we ever realize a situation so far dead make this a war
Blood fills the sky drop the deadly dive-bomb the end of this outside life.
We will find art again.