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Mr. Robotic, Mr. Green Machine.
He's got his head in the clouds,
he doesn't come down.
Mr. Robotic, Mr. Green Machine.
He's got what you need to let your mind roam free.

Twisted ambitious, mix of green side dishes.
Hops in the whip around 11:30.
Eyes on the prize he's quickly learning.
Restless pretentious, until his body's blessed with sky high sessions.
Ounces to the dome with absolutely no discretion.
Scourers the streets for the things he needs to help him sleep,
if you want to pass this up then step out of rotation.
He's got blood shot eyes and choking from the smoke inhalation.
Find myself trapped in his body feeling whole and less inpatient.

He's all wound up, he taps his toes.
Keeping rhythm like a river that flows.
He see's his mark he try's to reach it,
feet on the ground with the city beneath him.
Marching forward his hands stretch out,
losing faith in a world that's filled with doubt.
Breathing gets steady, pulse wears thin.
Coursing through your veins like little green men.
City lights burn so bright and violent, top of the summit
he shuts his eyelids.
With a deep breath he takes it all in,
transports himself to a world within.
Ignite my life this just feels right, promise not to make a scene?
We are one in the same. so take a ride inside my Green Machine.

He's the monster in your closet while your trying to sleep.
keep one eye open head for the streets.
There's no amount of blankets,
and no amount of sheets, that can keep you safe.
Don't fall asleep, keep your eyes on me, in my Green Machine.


from When Life Hands You Lemons​.​.​.​(​Deluxe), released September 11, 2016
Produced & Engineered by Thomas Iannello
Mixed & Mastered by Phil Dubnick



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