The Machine

A pool of white
Lights the worker's bench
Tools with metal bruising
Hands worn thin from using

The splash of black
Grease creeps like a snake
The machine grins like the joker
Jaws shut over the worker

The machine hires
Then it fires its gun
When we stray from their color
Their color of one
The machine hires
Then it fires its gun
When we stray from their color
Their color of one
The machine’s gun

And by candle light
The workеr robotically toils
The machine grins like thе joker
Jaws shut over the worker, oh

The machine hires
Then it fires its gun
When we stray from their color
Their color of one

The machine hires
Then it fires its gun
When we stray from their color
Their color of one
The machine’s

This fearsome greed
In the heart of the machine
Only for him he sees
While erasing you and me

The machine hires
Then it fires its gun
When we stray from their color
Their color of one

The machine hires
Then it fires its gun
When we stray from their color
Their color of one
The machine’s gun