I pixelate every day, calculating all of your dismay

Cashing in all of your sins, the man is the fiend

For the drug I am machine

Gasoline keeps me running clean, bountiful green for which you all plead

Man is burning for all to see, from the ashes rise

I the machine

Please carry on, I know that it gets hard

Stuck in the cold

With your feet slashed and sore, cut by your own path

Built and sold

To the end of the chain, where all the rich remain

self indulged

Self engulfed by the flame, and so you refrain

To take the blame

We are all stuck, to the machine

Yet we are all finished, by the machine

We are all hands, on the machine

Yet we are all finished, by the machine