Grand Machine No. 12

This damn machine, this damn machine
This broken head don't work
So they're selling it off again
These crooked legs, these twisted arms
These tired feet lost their worth
Soon they'll dismantle them

We're all just part of some giant grand machine
Too big to really understand
We'll do our jobs till we break down and fall

Now we just sleepwalk, we drift through the week
A dead procession always dragging its feet
Come on
Our hands are swollen
We all need to sleep
But there's no time, just stitch us up so we'll keep

We're all just part of someone's elaborate plan
Chess pieces in some grandiose scheme
But we'll do our jobs till we break down and fall