Fritz Lang's Metropolis

Science tears down the walls
and we rebuild.
the work they charged us with was too hard.
raise the anchor.
clear the moorings.
by dark we'll be rebuilt.
where's your heart?
when they cut you open what will they find?
is that where we are?
what's the use in getting older
if you're only young once?
science would end the world so we could be.
(better them than us, right?)
their life's work became the cog that turns the gears,
the wheels within wheels,
working the greater machine.
bit by bit,
start reassembling the failing extremities,
bit by bit.
and if they don't listen,
build around them
and we'll help to find their way.
somehow
we've lost sight of what lies in these machines
when did we throw our crown away?
why stop now, when we've come this close to perfection?
our problems will fix themselves,
our frailties will soon be behind us.
don't waste your whole life wondering
how it'll end
where there's a will,
there's a way
to change it all,
(for better or for worse)
until progress hits you
right between the eyes.
are we obselete?
maybe next year's model won't need
you
or me
or anyone
to rebuild