Android is bipolar and the polaroid is paranoid, I'm paralysed by all the lies and your dinner's in the fridge.

I'm cracking through the middle and the edges fray away and I'm loving every minute when will Auntie come to stay?

The treatment doesn't work and I wonder why they try, perhaps they'll give me some more capsules and I'll float off, getting high on all the fumes.

I love it and abhor it, want to **** it or adore it but can't make my mind a slave to the thing I want to ******, you can save me from the sermon of Mr Luther King the German though I knew he knows it all,
I just like to bang my head against the wall to make some sense, yet all is chaos.

Android's just the scam because the man is very shy and he hides inside his metal shell to watch the world go by and bipolar's a tombola, get a ticket win the prize, but still paralysed by all the lies, your dinner's in the fridge.