[Verse 1] Everybody want electric these days — e-mail, e-bikes, e-cigs, what a craze, e-e-nemy, e-e-rror, e-e-ject — what's the problem? Oh — just a reject, it freezes. it's the e-motionless model Floor unit. Scratch-and-dent. No feelin' to refund, so swing all you want — just sweep him in the bin when you're done. Mirror, mirror on the wall: before you stands Optimus — chrome plate, reactor heart, a supercomputer for a conscience... filter off an' that's a bus window, not a mirror. And that ain't Optimus in the glass. That's us. That's me. Just a kid. Face frozen, doesn't move —so the world scanned the stillness and shelved me. Defective unit. More than meets the eye? Sure. They just meant not even human. "What you mean, I'm not alive? I feel the same poundin' on the inside that you do — c'mon, crack it, look —" Disorder. Pile of parts in a box, note on the lid: "some assembly required, get fucked, good luck kid" Heart never shipped — just a empty mount right next to the exhaust vents... oh. So the poundin' I called a pulse this whole time — that was just decepticons leavin' dents. [Verse 2] A smile with teeth — can't see the violence or venom, next thing you're on the seat, bleedin', diagnosin' the damage. Soundwave took notes, never heard a word I said. Bombshell in a pill bottle, cerebro-shell aimed at my head — reprogram the freak, make the apostate repent. Town of a thousand saved souls; I was the lone dissent. Dad swung once. He was tired — no manual for a kid like this. One swing. That's all I logged. Didn't need a second to extrapolate: one data point's a whole pattern when you're cobbled outta scraps and plates, tangled wires, second-hand straps — defective, wrong out the crate. Mirror practice: "the eyes go here. No — softer. Run it again. The smile loads like this." Every face a file I installed by hand. Kids clocked it regardless — "Tin Man," no heart, no oil can. Threat detected — everyone. Firewall won't sort 'em. Some came in peace; couldn't parse it, so I fought 'em. Maybe a hand reached out. Maybe a friend. Didn't know. Read it all as incoming. So everything's a foe. [Bridge] Cut to '96 — out in the sticks an' all of'em are crosses. Dirt poor. Couldn't afford it. didn't matter what the cost was, That machine. She looked at the screen and saw the same Quiet gleam — more like her boy than anything she'd ever seen. First thing that ever looked at me and didn't flinch. She handed me a whole world that day on a CD Slid in the Britannica — A to Z, the planet on a disc, and the door I'd been clawin' at my whole life just... clicked. [Verse 3] Input, input — Number Five is alive in the den, disc spinnin', infinite — nope, not loud enough, double it: ten out of ten. Every event's a metaphor for another — hand me a tragedy, I'd hand one word back: "Hamlet." Said everything; you caught nothin'. Same language, somehow still — error: not understand. Years later — her face just drooped — looked at me like, "well? What do we do?" We're in the ER now, the results are coming back soon, and Here's the doc in the doorway — ...still hurts a little- here comes the filter again. Ratchet held up the terminal and points at something dark curling the head, chest, and heart: "All spark's got three months,where do you want me to start?" First thing that ever made it through the firewall was losin' her. Too big to metaphor away. Too loud to log and defer. Sat in a counselor's chair learnin' the names for things I'd never let myself feel. And somewhere in the rubble of my home world — I went human. Not healed. [Verse 4] Then Em on the radio — somethin' 'bout how you're not alone. Found the nerds spittin' demons and black holes, and it clicked: the wirin' they spent years tryna fix was never a bug. It's the instrument. I ain't the only unit hidin' a reactor behind a smile — we're not broken, we're robots in disguise. And the freak who couldn't get two words out plugged the disorder in a mic got a voice. Started a Tin Man — no heart, beggin' the wizard for a fix. Built one myself, outta scrap and spite n' wires, took 40 years to untwist Turned the wit to a weapon, every bar a blade off the anvil — point-blank, technical. Tin Man to Terminator. Schwarzenegger chassis — scan the room, lock the target, end it all And until I'm a goner I'm huntin' Connors an' fuck a thumbs up when time's up — for real, I'm that sucks, that's luck, good luck, an' fingers up, flippin' a triple tuck right in the steel. [Outro] With the all spark gone we can not return life to our planet and fate has yielded its reward... a new world to call home. We live among its people now, hiding in plain sight, but watching over them in secret. Waiting, protecting. I have witnessed their capacity for courage and though we are worlds apart. Like us, there's more to them than meets the eye. I am Optimus Prime, and I send this message to any surviving autobots taking refuge among the stars. We are here. We are waiting.
