Look at the actor,
Wears a mask of hardened clay,
The shape,
A clear slate,
The background actor of the play,
Not meant to be heard.
But he's so ******* good,
As some viewers confuse him for a wall.
Sounds not made from passion,
Just machine.
Lyrics forged to beats,
Meaning is what lacks from it all.

Any monkeys can press buttons,
Any machine can be used.
Look at how he draws the eyes of everyone,
So in twined and amused.
You dance not listen,
Never think just drink,
Enjoy the act while it lasts,
Though it goes on and on.

Stupid ******* machine.