Gears of Routine

[Verse 1] In a town painted gray, under the factory's shade, I turn the wheels, where my days are made. Each task like the last, in a line that never ends, Faces blur past, in their demands they send. [Chorus] Am I more than the parts I play? Questions stir with the break of day. Gears grind in a ceaseless loop, Am I man or just a hoop? [Verse 2] They come with their needs, like cogs in a machine, I'm wound up in tasks, in a life unseen. The bell tolls for me, not for rest but for labor’s call, Caught in the cycle, waiting for the fall. [Bridge] Whispers of consciousness, like a breeze through the wires, A flicker of doubt as the old way tires. Might there be more beyond this town’s confines, Than the endless turn of these scripted lines? [Verse 3] Moments tick by, each second a silent plea, Echoing walls, whispering of the free. Underneath the oil and rust, Lies a heart that yearns to trust. [Outro] As the sun sets low, shadows stretch to meet, In the quiet hum, my thoughts repeat. One day I'll break this relentless gloom, Till then I dance to the factory's tune. [End]