The colorful wings of a butterfly
That smacks on [bad word] screen
The way you put your hands
On the keys of your machine

You save your beliefs in your machine
You save your beliefs in your machine

I know the higher sense
That you feel when you're plugged in
I know the higher brain
In the guts of your machine
You save the face of your machine

Your machine

Irate, cogitate, agitate
Interface your machine