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Chorus:
They are machines,
They are the means
For any intend
To reach any end.
Verse:
They do not feel the warmth of the sun,
They don´t know happiness nor fun.
When they are hurt they do not bleed.
They are not proud of a well done deed.
They are not subject to disease,
In snow and ice they do not freeze.
When they are thickled they don´t leap,
They don´t need breakfasting nor sleep.
They are not angry if you tease them
And it´s impossible to please them.
They are not fresh nor are they coy,
They never have an hour of joy.
They are not haunted by bad dreams,
They do not work out their own schemes.
They are not fond of ease nor sport,
They don´t have friends of any sort.
