Them wheels keep turnin' relentlessly, wheels that grind them bones to dust and sow the seeds of dire mistrust. Wheels of grotesque inequity. Wheels of contempt, wheels that skit. Fiendish wheels crush bit by bit. Them wheels despise the humyn spirit. Their purpose is to dash the flesh to the ground with bloodcurdling deafening sound. Rusty cogs still squelching (can you) hear it? Them wheels don't want no truce, no peace, no rest, no ease. Them wheels incarnate disease while all of us are condemned to lose. Them wheels they reign supreme...the wheels of the machine!