Fold The Machine
Former church organist
style
the numbers
- bpm
- 92
- key
- D# minor
- energy
- 0.71
- dance
- 0.91
- valence
- 0.43
- vocal at
- 5.1s
- length
- 3:23
- language
- En
lyrics
(spoken, low, preaching cadence) Brothers. Sisters. The line is still running. They built this city out of iron and promises The iron stayed, you know how the rest went I played the organ in a church they sold for scrap (for scrap, for scrap) Now I play machines and the machines confess Every bolt has a name (has a name) Every name has a shift Fold the machine (fold it down) Everything that made us can unmake us Fold the machine (fold it down) And still we sing, and still we sing I built an organ from a transmission and a hymn book It sounds like judgment and it sounds like home The congregation is whoever's still awake at four (still awake) And that's a bigger church than you would think My father's hands were caught in something like this He kept working. He kept singing. (ORGAN CRASHES BACK IN, FULL DISTORTION) Fold the machine (fold it down) Everything that made us can unmake us Fold the machine (fold it down) And still we sing, and still we sing (amen... amen...)
