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They said the machines would set us free,
Do the work so we could finally breathe,
No more nights lost to the grind,
Just time to live,
and time to find.
But somewhere in the wires and the light,
I wonder if we'll lose the fight,
To stay the ones who feel,
who choose, Or just become
the ones who lose.
It's a light in the dark,
or a storm on the rise,
Two kinds of future behind the same eyes,
It could heal every hand,
or it could take our place,
We're writing the ending,
one line, one face.
I've seen it lift a broken man,
Give him a voice,
a working plan,
I've seen it steal a job,
a name,
Leave a whole town
looking
the same.
So who's holding the pen tonight?
Who decides what's wrong,
what's right?
Maybe it's not the machine to fear,
Maybe it's us,
and what we hold dear.
Two kinds of future...
one line, one face.
Two kinds of future...
it's ours to trace.