Text: Poets Of The Fall. Revolution Roulette.

If this machine doesn't stop, what will you do if it never goes out
Never goes out of season

It never stops as it turns, there ain't no passion, yet it burns
Introducing my prison

Losing myself in this place, soon I'm gone without a trace
Freed with that final incision

Look my heart it's a bird, it needs to sing and to be heard
Not this clockwork precision

And the machine grows idiotic
Who's gonna be its ingenious critic

Everybody loves the perfect solution
To beat the odds against the poorest possible substitution
What you see is never what you're gonna get
Everybody's playing revolution roulette

Leaves you no arguments to trade, you can try the key or you can wait
But the lock will not open

So you're left with sanity to lose, cos the machine is a ruse
Another invention to rule them

It's like a fistful of snake eyes, a hand grenade with bye byes
Like a million spent on nothing

It's kinda like a pick in their lock, when you never went "knock knock, hello, anybody home?
I'm coming in".
With a touch of foreboding

And the machine grows parasitic
Who's gonna critisize the good critic

Everybody loves...

Everybody has the perfect solution
It's just hard to resist the sweet seduction
There ain't no trick to winning double what you bet
Welcome to revolution roulette

Everybody loves...