Testo Pornomechanoid

Closing your eyes you make a parade
Of ulcers on your soul - it's your pride
Your harmony with yourself
Is an unprecedented perversion
The collective unconsciousness
Gives birth to ones like you -
Pornomechanoids, automatic satisfiers,
Ruining love and life in their basis
Pornomechanoid,
You are a cuspidor for idle feelings spits,
Conveyor packing rotten gifts in an attractive wrapper
Pornomechanoid,
You've trifled away your soul,
Exchanged it for small change and left
On the floor in public John

I feel no more pain and regret
Observing these daily fallings
I have an appointment with irresponsible «self»
X-ray in use - do not enter!
I bring up peaceful indifference in myself
Pornomechanoid,
A cheap winding toy
Who cares what you feel? Come round! -
You'll be thrown out as soon as battery exhausts!