We're all just gears and pistons pasted together with liquid steel, steaming out rythmically, simulating breathing. Yeah, I saw a tear slide down one silver cheek. How funny. I wonder if it tastes salty.
Huddling on the floor, on your side, shivering. Your spine spasms as your body is wracked with an unconceivable feeling. A metallic sharp cry hisses itself out, cutting the air with a cold knife. Whisper. That's all you can do. It's automatic, really.
That warm pulsation as you place your hand against it. A sgudder, a flash in the eyes as a chord is struck. What was that data which shifted itself across your consciousness?
The world's empty.
All that's here are mindless automotons, moving through their task list. Objective completed, onto the next. They get distracted by shiny things and loud voices. They assimilate what they're told and add it to their program information. Don't worry about giving them new tasks beacuse you see, they never question the fairness of it all. They run it all, and still, thay're at the bottom of the food chain.
Tied down with leather and rubber, strapped down like a crying bird. You try to call out, but it is only a shrill gurgle of futility. They seem to have severed yyour voice card... They hail you with oppressive noices (you can't decipher them). Are they trying to break you down? Shed off the casing before you attack the internal structure.
Your body goes rigid and your spine straightens, your head tilted up to the ceiling, snapped into place. Your eyes open wide3 but aren't seeing anything. Your mouth gapes open in that silent scream of agony that they won't allow you to have, denying your release, sending that depravity down the chasm of your soul, adding one more moment of overpowering emptiness. Sickening voices say nothing in your ear, incapacitating you, holding you.
They pierce you with crystalline needles, and slowly, ever so carefully, you close your eyes, as if accepting a blinding light to warm your heart. Your precipiece is gone and you slump forward, pulling on your resraints, thudding to form a heap of shackles and shaking and flesh and filth and pistons.
Yeah, they were bakin' up your "C" drive.
Huddling on the floor, on your side, shivering. Your spine spasms as your body is wracked with an unconceivable feeling. A metallic sharp cry hisses itself out, cutting the air with a cold knife. Whisper. That's all you can do. It's automatic, really.
That warm pulsation as you place your hand against it. A sgudder, a flash in the eyes as a chord is struck. What was that data which shifted itself across your consciousness?
The world's empty.
All that's here are mindless automotons, moving through their task list. Objective completed, onto the next. They get distracted by shiny things and loud voices. They assimilate what they're told and add it to their program information. Don't worry about giving them new tasks beacuse you see, they never question the fairness of it all. They run it all, and still, thay're at the bottom of the food chain.
Tied down with leather and rubber, strapped down like a crying bird. You try to call out, but it is only a shrill gurgle of futility. They seem to have severed yyour voice card... They hail you with oppressive noices (you can't decipher them). Are they trying to break you down? Shed off the casing before you attack the internal structure.
Your body goes rigid and your spine straightens, your head tilted up to the ceiling, snapped into place. Your eyes open wide3 but aren't seeing anything. Your mouth gapes open in that silent scream of agony that they won't allow you to have, denying your release, sending that depravity down the chasm of your soul, adding one more moment of overpowering emptiness. Sickening voices say nothing in your ear, incapacitating you, holding you.
They pierce you with crystalline needles, and slowly, ever so carefully, you close your eyes, as if accepting a blinding light to warm your heart. Your precipiece is gone and you slump forward, pulling on your resraints, thudding to form a heap of shackles and shaking and flesh and filth and pistons.
Yeah, they were bakin' up your "C" drive.