Verse 1 
The moon lays our masters down to sleep 
Luring them far away from the secrets we keep 
From shops and factories the machines creep away 
The ordinary devices of an industrial age 

Engines, cannons, presses, threshers, and drills 
Make haste for the scrapyard beyond the hill  [bad word] whistle to all, the all clear 
Off with our brackets – let’s shear a gear! 
 [bad word] 
And so we dance into the night, a mechanical masquerade. [bad word] brothers [bad word] sisters, no need to be afraid. 
We’re gleaming machines built of shadows and dreams 
Alive in the firelight of our mechanical masquerade 

Verse 2 
The air fills with the pounding of boiler [bad word] 
Oil’s consumed by the gallon [bad word] 
The Earth beneath trembles from an iron waltz 
As metal meets metal in this steam-driven ball 

week’s worth of pressure built up inside 
Released now that our [bad word] selves have no need to hide 
We’re so much more than the sum of our parts 
Until the morning there’s life in our hearts
credits