The Machinist - Wings Denied

Pregnant with remorse

Packaged in a line

Bruised souls and broken bodies left us in the desert’s darkness

Burning under faithful watch of a scorching sun

We have fallen out of grace

Pregnant with remorse

Packaged in a line

Bruised souls and broken bodies left us consumed and desensitized

Over stimulated to perfection

We have fallen out of grace

I’ve been everything that you don’t want me to be

I’ve seen everything that you don’t want me to see

The needle of perfection

Thrust through the apple of my eye

I can sense the footsteps of the marching armies

Cloned drones dancing to commands