Tis the season of the pods, they come for reasons that confound.
They believe they’re gifts from God, without content, without bound.

When you look into their eyes, there is nothing there to see.
If they hook you with their lies, they will bring you to your knees.
They go through all the motions, they pretend that they are real.
But beyond all their commotions, they have no notions that reveal.

They are the offspring from the mating of mankind and machine.
They are the orphans born of cloning and their kind was unforeseen.
They have no need for people except as things with which to play.
What they breed is mediocre because they’re programed to be that way.

They have a brain but not a heart and there’s a circuit for their soul.
Life’s a game where they take part, they say winning is the only goal.
They’re performing secret schemes that come from programs deep within.
Where the ends justify the means and you must lose for them to win.

They only care about their appearance, behind their smiles they will hide.
They demand you bear them deference, to fill the emptiness they find inside.

They’re building a wall so they’ll never fall in love or ever get hurt.
They’re commanding conformity while demanding deformity’s dirt.
They’ve outlawed all doubt about what life’s all about, so now is the time to pray.
They say that they know what’s best and they’ll care for you the rest of the way.
They can’t stand to change, they’re afraid of the strange whenever the closer it nears.
They’re scared that they’ll die and are trapped by the lies that deny all of their fears.
They roll with the tides and never take sides, they follow prevailing fashion.
They don’t truly feel, they’re somehow unreal, they never allow any passion.
They’re denying all hope and limiting scope, believing their small part is the whole.
They can’t stand the thought that things can’t be brought under their total control.

So if you love diversity and can stand up to adversity, now is the time to fight.
Cause the pods might just win, ever an end would begin, I know that you know that I’m right.

A pod’s life begun is a podlife become, to never be anything more.
Safe you would be, of pain you’d be free, that’s all you‘ll have in store.

Like programmed machines, without heart felt dreams, all alone without a God.
Ever living your schemes, not knowing what life means, not a person but just a pod.