The mechanical heart, it beats Underneath this rainy sky The machines produce more and more People without dreams, losers Every day we encounter Their lethargic faces The compulsion of their responsibilities And the loss of their wishes We flee, without chance Eventually it will catch us And we have to admit to ourselves, to ourselves That there is no way out Back to the grey of the streets We fight ourselves though the masses Fight ourselves We fight ourselves though the masses We fight ourselves though the masses This city shall die with us For a better life, a better tomorrow
mass, fight, though, lethargic, compulsion