People Are Machines

This is me... 

  Oh, this is me, neglected and obsolete, I am incomplete 
  This is me returning to my stability 
  This is me giving up and learning not to feel a thing 

  This is me preparing my grave in the shade, 
  Learning that everyone loses their place under the sun, eventually 

  This is me dealing with my discontentment and deficiency 
  I am handing in my registration and vulnerability 
  My guts have been hollowed out, there is nothing left for me to spill 
  I'm covered in dust because my life has been sat on the shelf 

  I'm a machine. 
  I don't feel a thing. 

  This is me going back to bed, destroying all my intents 
  This is me going back to bed, abandoning all of my friends 

  I'm a machine. 
  I don't feel a thing. 

  (Everyone is a machine; work, eat, sleep, repeat)