Here he stands, one of a million in a forest full of his kind  Captured by a voice talking to them again and again  Cutting through the skull into their brains  Lifeless eyes looking up to the throne  Waiting for new orders, the only guiding line  Fill up the red sea again, burn the corpses  Let the mechanical children grow up from the ashes  Clear the emotion sector  It's all a question of systematic surveillance  Reality is superfluous, a disturbing factor  In the voice they trust, no doubts at any time  Control is everything, the strenght that keeps the system going  Pills for the organic tool, to get them up and down  Their lives reduced to this  It takes a period of time to make him listen  Taking out the colours from their eyes makes it so much easier  His decisions are routine  An automatic reaction with only one possible solution  Their pride is growing with every word they hear  Hungering for more, for the coming hibernation  Now they can take new orders  The voice still burning in the deepest thoughts  All seeking for perfection, this wish is breaking his mind  Maybe one will stand out, so he can carry the flag  The rest will burn soon and become a new breeding ground  Afterwards, they'll complete the process