We're machines jamming up all the cogs. We're here playing with our Lincoln logs. We're smiling on this peaceful day. We're crying about all the things we couldn't save. We are hollow Going through tunnels Explaining our outcomes. Not sure where they're coming from. We're becoming our best enemy. We're becoming children of the seventies. I am sure you are right if not we'll have to fight. Can't seem to get this through your head Lies like cream cheese need a place to spread.