The brain is a machine

Creeper

You stare down at me with hardened eyes
A Rock can only feel what it wants
And sir, if that's me that you want
Well, bid me goodbye

An emotional paradox has no time for cement
Perky tits and curvy hips are not a reason to be a meal
I'm not your snack, sir
Goodbye, sir
My face is up here, sir
No sir, I'm not yours
I'm not anyone's
In fact

Not even my own
This lawless mannequin has no master, no lord

So please, sir, go ahead and leave sir
My flame is not your haven