The streets are blacker now
And I am a pilot of servitude
Surrounded by brutes with batteries
Crowded by passengers with wires for heads
You made me your slave
Your redeeming quality is my love for you
I've been lost and found
But I'm still the robot at the bottom of your miscellaneous box
Marked with sharpie and brittle from drought

My material is your serial
You will settle for nothing else
I am your substance prototype
The one that couldn't quite make it into the sky

You found something better to play with
He wears a suit and a tie
He comes home to you, "he says honey I'm home."
And you keep him on the nightstand
I know you feel so alone
Because it's so quiet in this dusty old box in the corner of your room
I wish I could feel your kisses again, it would feel like a monsoon
I hear you during the nights that he is gone, I hear your tears hit the ground
I hear the fridge door open to the sound of the clanking bottles you reach for
I hear all the animals in the forest singing tunes to you
You do not hear them, but I do
I wish I could sing for you too, but you took my voice box away
But you didn't forget did you?