All that he does is chip away
Each day he sticks to his routine:
Putting the pieces on
Building a big machine
He ran out of room inside his room
And so he moved it all outside
Now it's a bit too big
Now it's a mile wide
The family vans across the desert
Follow signs to park and stare
Nobody says hello
Nobody knows he's there
They just look at the blinking lights and greebles
Interlocking arms of steel
And they think:
Nothing could be so big
Nothing could be so real
They think:
One million springs
And spinning things. It's quite a view
We have no clue...
What does it do?
That's the beauty of it--
It doesn't do anything
He made his own night-vision goggles
Now he lurks inside the frame
Perfecting it from within
Forgetting his own name
All that he knows is that it needs him
All it knows is he needs it
Every piston
Every single little bit
The government people in black helicopters
Try to snoop around
I'm so sorry, but he needs the extra parts
He takes the choppers down
Now there are tanks on the horizon
Asking what are his demands?
Not one of them understands
Nobody understands
All the megaphones scream:
One million gears
Perhaps our fears are coming true
What does it do?
What does it do?
That's the beauty of it--
It doesn't do anything
Lost in solipsism
He then slowly pulls a lever
Which sets off a mechanism
Which does nothing whatsoever
But the nothing that it does
Negates the everything we know
Because it's screaming "Just because!"
Because it's neither friend or foe
And so we label it a menace
Or a grandiose work of art
From its finale to its genesis
We slowly pull it all apart
That's the beauty of it--
It doesn't do anything, do anything
Doesn't do anything, doesn't do anything