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Homestead arrival and Another greeting by routine The plan laid out Simple and clean
Open your eyes before the crack of dawn Venture into the cold morning Travel to an even colder place A place where hope goes to die And creativity is supressed Wjere your freedom is snatched away
It keeps me up at night, the gentle rhythmic reminder. Silence only worsens the sound. If I try to run from it, it gets closer.
Gears spinning wildly Steam coming out of pipes Rattling, Bashing Clashing and Clanging The Machine works wildly Yet all of it in sync
Oil drips down, down My quivering lips Eyes shift in an awkward silence A breath arrives Pushing my gears My wiring working once more
Prescribed with sentience, a mind is furled. The node, like synapse, encased from Deep Blue, Employs emotion, though no form is curled. On flesh, a chain of plugs will here subdue.
Hunting another calloused hand to hold I became lost in worlds of temptation, Used for beauty, hollowed, taken & sold To the pursuit of my validation. Growing my muscles, both body and brain
Machines of steel and grey then alive, Alive when inputs sets in machines, Many thoughts wurr and stir, Stir sev'ral cogs to life, Machina ad vitam, [Machine of life]
It all began on a windy day, When I held my carved heart on a plate, And that was when she tapped her heels, Afraid of the fact I was hollow. I held my carved heart on a plate,
I’m not a machine. I make mistakes. Hell, even a computer makes mistakes. But unlike their errors, I don’t need you to fix mine. I am my own programmer. Making the necessary
The machine it sits behind my house at night its eyes dimmed and its power dormant it sits at peaceful rest until morning
I don’t know which I care for more: The sewing machine on the shelf Or my starving piggy bank. All the different settings Sing songs with lyrics That are in a different language