But in the guts of Leviathan life still happens
And here we live under rust, in the grime and in the grit
Wrapping festered wounds and shuffling on
Ashen faces, peering eyes, unknown pieces in a murky sight
The cold cold isolation of it all
We live to stay alive
We cling to scraps to get us by
When things are bad we clutch at straws
And when their not its nice to breathe
Tick tock goes the clock and another day has gone
Such is life with the old machines
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