Some days I feel like something in immaculate packaging. First edition; maybe a collector’s item. Take a look, there are no parts missing, no visible cracks.
Take a closer look, see the cogs whirring; if you’re sharp enough, you may see the lack of a certain… je ne sais quoi. I’m a walking, talking defected piece.
Every action is a form of false advertising on which I rely. Invest in me, and for the most part, I won’t let you down. The seamless attitude I will make you buy, lies every show of calm, laughter and wit.
Like an automaton forced to overdrive, I’ll smile through the strain and earn my place.
After all, can’t you tell my worth?