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Drone little specs down below watch them scurry to and fro streams of white and red filling an ocean at my behest with broken backs and crooked limbs their hurried toils are the subject of my whims in my lands there is no rest a slow decay, day by day their bones will feed my nest while in the ground they rot away I'm master of fates a thousand levers, my machine safe in the shadows of fame watching on from up on high my belly full, my mouth never dry with icy condescension I hatch designs beyond comprehension get them suited, get them booted toughened by steel, broken by greed for their hardened skin, their rotten toenails I raise my glass to their travails My glance a morbid curiosity at their scurrying toil to bend the knee exchanging lies by my design pinned to a board, I pull their wings my malice is refined, my face dignified torn apart, they cannot sting their lives are but fleeting dreams Some burn like tigers caged in glass flickering with fervent purpose until their future's passed up and down the way they work fighting their way along the curb fusing their greed and need working the line for chicken feed with broken backs and crooked limbs their hurried toils are the subject of my whims in my lands there is no rest a slow decay, day by day their bones will feed my nest while in the ground they rot away little specs down below watch them turn to ash and bones jump a mile plunge headlong you'll never leave where you belong

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