The Machine -

Alone these hands are hollow, calming echo

And now the night approaches, dark tide swallows

The night it peaks to whisper, here I follow…

Slowly separate become machine

Marching one by one while washing clean

Alone they found me empty.

Here I go down before

Alone with one eye open, capture my shadow

And as the night approaches, dark tide swallows

The night it peaks to whisper, here I follow…

Slowly separate become machine

Marching one by one they’re washing clean again

Slowly separate become machine…

Colors fade to numbers steal my everything