I guess I am mechanical

I am here at your leisure

Should I cause a problem

You can cast me into the garbage

I guess I am mechanical

In a way, that I will keep coming back

Like an old watch, or something that will eventually wear out ,like a phone

And die off, and none would be the wiser

Not one tear shed, and I guess I like it that way

I guess I am mechanical because

I can tell that you cut hair for a living, based on the scars on your knuckles and fingers, and your beautiful hair

I can tell that you work in a warehouse because of your dirty clothes, and the apathy in your eyes

I can tell that you work at a law firm, because of the paper cuts on your fingers and the bags under your eyes

I can tell that you hate your job, because I see that same look in the mirror every damn morning.

So let's start a revolution, or anarchy, let's truly live in a world that casts us out, the outcasts.

The ones that don't fit in the jigsaw puzzle properly

Let's sit down for some tea, or coffee, or maybe a soda. I don't care what you drink.

Let's live a little before we go, let's laugh a little in this serious world of nothing.

Why don't we just go? Would you go with me?