 the way of the modern tool is lonely on this crafted avenue |
 just a small peek at our instruments will reveal isolation |
 for even our shadows are mechanistic terrors |
 calling us to the cog and wheel |
 where we are awork in a factory of bad living... |
 a corporation of sufferers |
 in constant struggle |
 with this modern contraptual evil... |
 where spontaneity is a curse... |
 creativity a shunned weakness |
 and never, never, Ever... |
 try to speak your mind! |
