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Deeper into the mud... led by the angel. John Doe is looking around,

delighted and frankly begins to the insane. The computer-brain can`t

find such a "feeling" in it`s data banks and become alarmed...



Machine:

Outside the breathing space

Like a bunch of metal pushed into my vein



John Doe:

Hasta la vista, oh la-la negras putas, mochos cojones!

It`s so beautyful here...



Machine:

Vegetation, out of my files

Weird like death, like rusty metal



The Angel:

How do you feel?

Laa-la-la... you`re out of line!



Machine + Choir:

Death? Death?



Machine:

(Hey!)How it`s a crime to walk down here

This is not our property, somebody`s changing us



The Angel:

No, no, no! It`s not true!

Here we are all free, free from your sins!



Machine:

Sure it`s all safe?

Reminds me of an overload

Surrounded by chaos

I`m just a hunter`s prey



The Angel:

Benedictus esto inter peccatores, dominius tecum!



John Doe manages to escape from the circle of the computer-brain,

the body impregnated with despair is slowly getting of its chronic

depression. The Angel watching from aside with a contented smile.

The computer-brain is starting to feel reduction of electric charge

in itself.



Machine:

I can`t find my memory

I`m short of breath, I only feel!

Files are messed up, hi-tech gone

Wanna get back, this is not fun!

I escape, I am scared

I`ll be lost anyway

Comfortable? It`s too hot

I am afraid of what is not

Who do you smile, don`t like it

Feel to much, I feel sorrow

I should stay pale behind my monitor,

LET ME GO!



The computer-brain runs away trying to escape...

John is somewhere else. Revelling deep pleasure.



Machine:

American dream

You made youself spoiled

I`ve been livin` in a dream too long

They forced me to pay, but now, here, today



Choir:

YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!



Machine:

Is this way right or wrong?

Should I go... right or left?

It`s too hot, faith no more

I feel wet, I will die!

Deeper into the mud... led by the angel. John Doe is looking around,

delighted and frankly begins to the insane. The computer-brain can`t

find such a "feeling" in it`s data banks and become alarmed...



Machine:

Outside the breathing space

Like a bunch of metal pushed into my vein



John Doe:

Hasta la vista, oh la-la negras putas, mochos cojones!

It`s so beautyful here...



Machine:

Vegetation, out of my files

Weird like death, like rusty metal



The Angel:

How do you feel?

Laa-la-la... you`re out of line!



Machine + Choir:

Death? Death?



Machine:

(Hey!)How it`s a crime to walk down here

This is not our property, somebody`s changing us



The Angel:

No, no, no! It`s not true!

Here we are all free, free from your sins!



Machine:

Sure it`s all safe?

Reminds me of an overload

Surrounded by chaos

I`m just a hunter`s prey



The Angel:

Benedictus esto inter peccatores, dominius tecum!



John Doe manages to escape from the circle of the computer-brain,

the body impregnated with despair is slowly getting of its chronic

depression. The Angel watching from aside with a contented smile.

The computer-brain is starting to feel reduction of electric charge

in itself.



Machine:

I can`t find my memory

I`m short of breath, I only feel!

Files are messed up, hi-tech gone

Wanna get back, this is not fun!

I escape, I am scared

I`ll be lost anyway

Comfortable? It`s too hot

I am afraid of what is not

Who do you smile, don`t like it

Feel to much, I feel sorrow

I should stay pale behind my monitor,

LET ME GO!



The computer-brain runs away trying to escape...

John is somewhere else. Revelling deep pleasure.



Machine:

American dream

You made youself spoiled

I`ve been livin` in a dream too long

They forced me to pay, but now, here, today



Choir:

YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!



Machine:

Is this way right or wrong?

Should I go... right or left?

It`s too hot, faith no more

I feel wet, I will die!

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