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Retold by Machines (2016)

               

I don't want to be fed to a machine. 
Don't want the wrinkles ironed out, 
don't want the smudges laundered clean. 

I don't want to bow at someone's demand. 
Don't want to be somebody's doll
dressed up and blinking on command. 

I want my flaws to read like braille. 
I want to be proud when I succeed, 
and even prouder when I fail. 
I'll be holy, I'll be obscene, 
but I'll never be bottled and retold by machines. 
I'll never be bottled and retold by machines. 

I don't want to parcel out my heart. 
Don't want to scan it or examine it
or sell it for spare parts. 
I don't want to unpack pieces of my past. 
Don't want to shine it up and whore it out
and make some money fast. 

I want my flaws to read like braille. 
I want to be proud when I succeed, 
and even prouder when I fail. 
I'll be holy, I'll be obscene, 
but I'll never be bottled and retold by machines. 
I'll never be bottled and retold by machines. 

And this is why I'm not impressed with the things that you adore. 
This is why my radio's in pieces on the floor. 
I'll be holy, I'll be obscene, 
but I'll never be bottled and retold by machines.