If this machine doesn’t stop
What will you do if it never goes out,
Never goes out of season?
It never stops as it turns…
There ain’t no passion, yet it burns,
Introducing my prison.
Losing myself in this place…
Soon I’m gone without a trace,
Freed with that final incision.
Look, my heart, it’s a bird;
It needs to sing and to be heard
Not this clockwork precision.
And The Machine grows idiotic;
Who’s gonna be it’s ingenious critic?
Everybody loves the perfect solution,
To beat the odds
Against the poorest possible substitution.
What you see is never what you’re gonna get…
Everybody’s playing Revolution Roulette.
Leaves you no arguments to trade;
You can try the key or you can wait,
But the lock will not open.
So you’re left with sanity to lose
‘Cause the machine is a ruse,
Another invention to rule them..
It’s like a fistful of snake eyes,
A hand grenade with bye byes,
Like a million spent on nothing.
Look…
It’s kinda like a pick in their lock,
When you never went knock knock.
“Hello, anybody home? I’m coming in…”
With a touch of foreboding.
And the machine grows parasitic;
Who’s gonna critisize the good critic?
Everybody loves…
Everybody has the perfect solution,
But it’s just hard to resist the sweet seduction.
There ain’t no trick to winning double what you bet…
Welcome to Revolution Roulette.
Everybody loves…
248 Прочтений • [Poets Of The Fall - Revolution Roulette] [27.03.2012] [Комментариев: 0]
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