I've got a gear instead of soul Within a bulb I have a matter that can feel The bitter truth that strikes me with dismay Mechanic system, which supposed
(Instrumental)
November freeze Invaded the air Scratchy invisible breeze Prickles my shoulders and knees Trapping warmth everywhere The spine cracked again A straw
The morning lights Annealing eyes with cold A tempest rides Defiling skies like mould I see a dream being wide-awake This world is running mad A crazy
OF ART'' I'VE GOT A GEAR INSTEAD OF SOUL Within a bulb I have a matter that can feel The bitter truth that strikes me with dismay Mechanic system, which
A sleepy loft attired in haze Subsiding in the maze Within a weedy bog Nocturnal flies knock on a pane A scintillating stain Embossed in lardy fog Behind