The machine tears speech into pieces,
The way you wanted it, imperfect to be real
Witches, warlocks, computer chips, microchips, and you
The way I wanted it, too perfect too be real
deep, crazy, supernatural bugged out funk stuff
Wear your leather cape, I'll wear my untraceableness, the place is indifferent to us as we've become the place the machine tears us into the safest pieces there is
And we are clear.
