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lyrics
the automatons, they dance, pure limb-for-limb mimicry
their composite flesh not yet lonesome for death
but why should it be when they move, move so feverishly?
i guess that's why the french call it divertissement.
and though they saw the sun that day
they thought it was an illusion
if not for the, the sky-turned-grey
they'd still be dancing now.
tossing and turning, the drones cannot sleep
fear has invaded their worn circuitry
fighting off nausea, conceding defeat
all disavow their past pageantry.
and when they try to dance, aligned
they find, find theirs steps amiss
they sleep at night, but curse the days
that decadence has won.
awake in the morning with a handful of faith
to a shower of confetti in the wake of a parade
where children scream for candy and the youngbloods swig gin
as the elders watch clouds pass, forgetting their sins
it’s another new day; let the pageantry begin.
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