We establish a routine
They want us to be machines
With what we have inside
We all hold onto something
*
The wrong words may sound too mean
Or worse yet, may seem obscene
But what we try to hide
Will still amount to something
*
With factory-line precision
We carry on with our day
Stages in a row
Packaged to get paid
*
With kind energy, our mission
We get through the whole day
Phases on the go
Stacking up our fate
*
Then we read our new screen
The world decides to come clean
We stand on either side
At least we agree on something