I’ve made something that is perfect.
Mistakes I’ve made, hearts I’ve broken,
It’s not my desire, it’s not been worth it
This twisted toxic machine has chosen

To refuse all corrections
And to make any new updates
I’d bash its head in, if I could,
But it’s not really my fate

I wish it weren’t, I’ll overcome it
But foolishly, it trundles on
Taking hope and opportunity
And leaving or making them gone.