Verse 1 Power loves the quiet kind, comfort kills the questioning mind. Feed them noise, they’ll never see who profits off their empathy. Chorus The machine sleeps, but its dream’s alive. We’re the gears and the oil, in the empire’s hive. Verse 2 We traded screams for screenlight, and turned belief into bite-sized fright. Truth outsourced, soul denied, the gods of apathy preside. Bridge Profit wears a smiling mask, it never needs to ask. As long as we scroll, it’s got us by the soul. Outro The machine sleeps, and we keep time. Every silence, another crime.
