Big Machine

Stand straight, fall back in line.
Comb your hair, get to work on time.
Everyone in the big machine,
tries to break your heart, and pull you underneath.

Maybe I'm wrong and all that you get is what you see,
maybe I'm right and there's something out there to believe.

Everybody's talking in their sleep.
They push a lot of air around but don't say much of anything.
Except when they laugh at me, like ghosts under a sheet
Everybody's talking in their sleep.