Without knowing me, without knowing who,
People want me to do, do, do.
They like to use me as a machine.
Who is telling me a machine cannot feel a sin.
So as a sinless man you should work for us.
We feed you with oil that will make you last.
Don’t try to make us fail.
We control cities, we control the gales.
Do what we want you to do.
Otherwise we cut off all earthy supply
Which will make you slow, slow die.
No use for begging the strange sky.