Empty at the till
Rusting and decaying so efficiently
You know me so well
Lusting as a slave to electricity
My kind is gone
Craving the swarm...never again
It all goes numb
We are not your friend
And it comes for me
It comes for me
It covets me
It smothers me
It comes for me
It covets me
It smothers me
Finally filled
Now that we have given up identity
Oh it's such a thrill
The way in which you number my tranquility
No longer ashamed
Being concave
Is this what makes you afraid
Or something to save
And it comes for me
It comes for me
It covets me
It smothers me
It comes for me
It covets me
It smothers me
This rapturous spell
So comfortably lost
If this is Hell
Why do you carry the cross?
And it comes for me
It covets me
It smothers me
It comes for me
It covets me
It smothers me