The Machine
Mr. Gnome
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Alone these hands are hollow, calming echo
And now the night approaches, dark tide swallows
The night it peaks to whisper, here I follow...
Slowly separate become machine,
Marching one by one while washing clean.
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Alone they found me empty. Here I go down before
Alone with one eye open, capture my shadow
And as the night approaches, dark tide swallows
The night it peaks to whisper, here I follow...
Slowly separate become machine.
Marching one by one they're washing clean again
Slowly separate become machine...
Colors fade to numbers steal my everything