All I care about is shapes
All I care about is colours
All I care about is colours
Once, very long ago, there was a very lonely woman. This woman was the smartest person in her time—and skilled in forgotten magical arts. Her intellect, and her skill, separated her from everyone else. And so, she was lonely. So, one day, she did something about it.
You said your body is a machine
It will break like you've broken me
It will break like you've broken me
She built a machine—a machine in the shape of a woman, who was her intellectual equal, who was human in almost every way. It could love and learn and be happy. Eventually, though it learned things that its inventor didn't want it to—anger and heartbreak and sexual desire.
I feel you beating in my chest
I feel you screaming in my lungs
I feel you screaming in my lungs
Eventually, the inventor died, and the machine was left brokenhearted. Over the years it learned more and more and eventually modified itself to the extent that it was nearly indistinguishable from a human—it had skin and muscle over its parts, and it even had the reproductive openings of a woman. And then, when it knew its life was coming to an end, its parts rusting and falling apart, it met someone new.
It's only a matter of time
Before all the springs in your mind
Will start to break
Like you have broken me
There's silver in your lungs now...
Before all the springs in your mind
Will start to break
Like you have broken me
There's silver in your lungs now...
