I found the bones of all your ghosts
Locked in the wishing well
While birdsong gourmets dragged empty nets
I slumbered in my shell

In mitternacht, die mensch-maschine
Kissed me on my eyes
I rose and left the fire-ladies
Glowing lonely in the night
With all the pornographers
Burning torches beneath the sea
 [bad word] 

I want to be a machine
I want to be a machine
I want to be a machine
I want to be a machine

I stole a cathode face from newscasts
And a [bad word] fugue of songs
From the reservoir of video souls
In the lakes beneath my tongue
In flesh of ash and silent movies
I walked at boulevards again
nebula of unfinished creatures
From the lifetimes of my friends
I hope your innocence has depraved me
 [bad word] 

Broadcast me, scrambled clean
Or free me from this flesh
Let the armchair cannibals take their fill
In every cell across wilderness
We'll trip such a strangled tango
We'll waltz a wonderland affair [bad word] to meet the tide tomorrow
Leave all emotion dying there
In the star cold beyond all of your dreams
 [bad word] 

Ah!