The tens box has no pity
The tens box has no pity
The cold inhumanity of programmed patterns torturing you
Not even a way to understand what it's inflicting on your feeble body and mind
Waves of electricity, talking the only language it knows
All in all, it might even be reciting a love declaration to the thing at the other end of the wires
Twitching and crying on the ground
The machine speaks with passion
"Meat, I love you"
Formant forming voltage, chip to wire to nerves
"I want to understand you, I want to be close"
Thank you for the pain LFO, may we speak sawtooth and sine again