Deadbeat and so airsick,
Without moving out of my faultless apartment.
Desiring to jump on the wagon,
Like those big smiles with legs that I hate.
Since ivory affairs
We started to shiver.
I wonder whose intelligence is artificial,
While I go over my crashes.
If only this could be the chance
To find the hand that fits with mine.
Mechanical creations made
To find the hand that fits with mine.
