Electric President

^C This damn machine, this damn machine,
this broken head doesnR ^F 17;t work.
So they’re selling it off again
^C These crooked legs, these twisted arms,
these tired feet lost their wor ^F th.
Soon they’ll dismantle them
^Am But we ^Em 217;re all just p ^F art of some ^G giant grand machine
^Am Too ^Em big to really ^F unders ^G tand
^Am But we ^Em 217;ll d ^F o our jobs t ^G ill we break down and fall
^{C F}
Now we just sleepwalk.
We drift through the week.
A dead procession always dragging its feet. Well, come on
Our hands are swallen.
We all need to sleep.
But there’s no time, just stitch us up so we’ll keep
We’re all just part of someone’s elaborate plan
Chess pieces in some grandiose scheme
But we’ll do our jobs till we break down and fall