The mechanical heart, it beatsnUnderneath this rainy skynThe machines produce more andnMorenPeople without dreams, losersnnEvery day we encounternTheir letargic facesnnThe compulsion of theirnResponsibilitiesnAnd the loss of their wishesnWe flee, without chancennEventually it will catch usnAnd we have to admit to ourselvesnThat there is no way outnBack to the grey of the streetsnnWe fight ourselves through thenMassesnnThis city shall die with usnFor a better life, a betternTomorrow
Transmetropolitan
War From A Harlots Mouth
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Lyrics by War From A Harlots Mouth
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