Artist: Electric President
This damn machine, this damn machine, this broken head doesn't work.
So they're selling it off again.
These crooked legs, these twisted arms, these tired feet lost their worth.
Soon they'll dismantle them.
But we're all just part of some giant grand machine.
Too big to really understand.
But we'll do our jobs till we break down and fall.
Now we just sleepwalk. We drift through the week.
A dead procession always dragging its feet. Well, come on.
Our hands are swollen. We all need to sleep.
But there's no time, just stitch us up so we'll keep.
We're all just part of someone's elaborate plan.
Chess pieces in some grandiose scheme.
But we'll do our jobs till we break down and fall
|1||Good Morning Hypocrite|
|3||Ten Thousand Lines|
|4||Grand Machine No. 12|
|6||Snow On Dead Neighborhoods|
|7||Some Crap About The Future|
|9||We Were Never Built To Last|
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|Electric President - S/T Album Lyrics|
|1.||Good Morning Hypocrite|
|3.||Ten Thousand Lines|
|4.||Grand Machine No. 12|
|6.||Snow On Dead Neighborhoods|
|7.||Some Crap About The Future|
|9.||We Were Never Built To Last|
|2||We Were Never Built To Last|
|4||Some Crap About The Future|
|5||Snow On Dead Neighborhoods|
|8||Empire Of The Sun|
|9||Empire Of The Sun|
|10||The Black Ghosts|