The System of Automation

(Verse 1)
The clock is broad.
The wall is grey.
We switch the trousers for the day.
The morning came without a sound.
The mist heavy on the ground.
You have the number on your sleeve.
I have the reason to believe.
But it is gridlock in the hall.
A strict collision with the wall.

(Chorus)
Oh, the automation.
Ooh, the same vibration.
You and I.
I and you.
The replication of the blue.
Oh, oh, oh.
It is a system.

(Verse 2)
The papers state a different name.
We change the structure of the blame.
Your leather collar is too tight.
My left-hand pocket is polite.
We occupy the middle space.
A very temporary place.
You bring the hammer, I the nail.
A most administrative tail.

(Chorus)
Oh, the automation.
Ooh, the same vibration.
You and I.
I and you.
The replication of the blue.
Oh, oh, oh.
It is a system.

(Bridge)
[The music shifts into an erratic, dissonant saxophone flourish]
I say the word.
You turn the screw.
It is an ugly thing to do.
The absolute, precise design.
Your little line intersecting mine.
It is a goddamn boredom.
A goddamn mechanism.
Oh. Ooh. Oh.
The switch is thrown.

[Guitar Solo - Sharp, screeching, discordant notes]

(Verse 3)
The pattern alters by a inch.
We do not notice, do not flinch.
You keep the ledger in your head.
I count the minutes in the bed.
The transaction is complete.
An intersection on the street.
You and I.
I and you.

(Outro)
Oh, the system.
Ooh, the system.
You and I.
I and you.
Oh.
Ooh.
The machine continues.
The machine continues.
[The instruments sharply cut out on an unresolved chord, leaving only a fading hum]