MyChildren MyBride - The Machinist [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

We're approaching the gloating
Of another dealer's winning hand
The inspiring delusions
Living up to the dreams of modern man
And I swear we put our lives into everything
Giving all we have
But we're lacking the reaping
Slaughtering the weakest of society's hard working calves

[Stanza x2]
Trying to bring us down again
But we're still having the times of our lives
What we've lost we'll gain back again
The machine is tearing out our insides

We're picking up all the pieces, all life's thesis, that you've cast aside
Insuring our victory from mighty death's harvesting clock of time
You're breathing down the neck of all our selfish insecurities
Birthing the fate of the hate that's been breeding all our perfect impurities
Perfect impurities

We're climbing, still climbing this mountain that you've set before us
We'll do whatever it takes not to make the mistakes
But still this pressure's killing us

We're picking up all the pieces, all life's thesis, that you've cast aside
Insuring our victory from mighty death's harvesting clock of time
And only time will tell if this hard life meant anything
We'll do whatever it takes not to make the mistakes
But still this pressure's killing us

[x2]
If all we have still isn't good enough, then what's there left to give
What's left to give

If all we have still isn't good enough, then what's there left to give
Breaking apart the nothing that's become our only incentive

So mark our words and build our graves
You're the excuse for all of our mistakes
The very reason that we turned out this way
All the failure and all the heartache

Asking, pulling, taking all that's left in our lives
The machine is tearing out our insides
Asking, pulling, taking all that's left in our lives
The machine is tearing out our insides

So mark our words, and build our graves
You're the excuse for all of our mistakes
The very reason that we turned out this way
All the failure and all the heartache

So mark our words, and build our graves
You're the excuse for all of our mistakes