jagdhund:
There once was a boy,
A robotic boy,
With a crank sticking out of his head.
He never performed with sadness or joy,
He was just simply programmed to sing.
So he sang.
So he sang.
So he sang, until one day
With no one around this robot fell down
And the crank, it broke out of his head.
With the jar to his hard drive,
He felt all alive.
The old robot he used to be: Dead.
There was rage in his brain,
There was pain in his frame,
There was love, there was hunger and strife.
He felt lonely, rejected, at times disconnected,
No answer to the meaning of life.
So he sang.
So he sang.
So he sang.
So he sang.
Sweet dreams are made of these,
Who am I to disagree?
Travel the world and the seven seas,
Everybody’s lookin’ for something…
(via smotherfudging)