Robot Command Centre

If you turn
Into something like a robot, we
Will all be proud

With your metal arms
Your metal arms they make me feel like I
Live my life
Too fast

You push yourself too hard
Now you’re quieter than a Sunday
Your armies will not march
Now you’re quieter than a Sunday

How (are) we meant to feel
If networks have gone down
Ceremony’s over
And the buildings out of bounds

How (are) we meant to feel
If the sunlight hurts our eyes
Were walking in a straight line
And it always leaves us dry

You push yourself too hard
Now you’re quieter than a Sunday
Your armies will not march
Now you’re quieter than a Sunday

You push yourself too hard
Now you’re quieter than a Sunday
Your armies will not march