One hundred years from now
See the chrome, can't hear it move
I'll meet you on the way down
Wrapped around somebody's hand
We've all moved on from here
The [bad word] dry
drowsy line of wasted time
Bathes my open mind

This strange machinery
Is keeping you from seeing me
I'll meet you on the way down
Can't stay - unbearable to go
We've all moved on from here
The [bad word] dry
drowsy line of wasted time
Bathes my open mind