We’re moulded to our tone

The race of man

Stubborn to the bone.
So do we want to end up synthesised heroes?

There’s no assurance you won’t find us in a shop window

Sold to minors

We’ll be packaged pristine

So to fuel the fire

Of the public’s demand

Now we can’t stand it

But we’d give alot just to be viewed

Like how she wants you.
Look sharp:

Our products gently waiting

It’s ready to kill us

For a price of course

We dug our own graves

With our consumerism

We’re whining but we need not be ashamed here.
Cause mannequins,

With human beings we’re all the same

‘man’ is the word.


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