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© Compiler:
± BPM (tempo): ♩ = 134 beats per minute
Alarm goes off, 6 a.m., One more day and then weekend. Dressed in the office uniform, Hairbrushes, all shape and form. Through the door, and cross the street, While I was trying to make up time, Buy the ticket, squeeze on the train, Eyes fixed firmly on the windowpane. Repeat again… Chorus: You live inside this machine, Nothing ever slows down. The slate will always wipe clean, You seem to make up crown. Alarm goes off, 5 p.m., Before the after-work wind down. No one’s gonna hang around, Target failure to the drown. A bottle spirits sinking fast, Another one rising at last. The self assured never scar, Their pride will heal with comp pending car. Chorus: You live inside this machine, Nothing ever slows down. But the slate will always wipe clean, You seem to make up crown. Make up, make up crown, Make up crown…