I made the world a place easier for me Money in my pockets over centuries I'm a celebrated sinner with statues in the park This world I made is harder, the more your skin is dark I covered all my tracks in books on history Justified my actions through anthropology I chose what to remember and what we should forget I covered all my tracks in your blood and sweat This machine runs on its own This machine runs on its own In 1865, everyone is free But I still get my labour complimentary Who is working in the prisons now? Look and you will see That in 1865 I disguised slavery This machine runs on its own This machine runs on its own ♪ But a crack has appeared, it keeps me up at night There are whispers, there are shouts and I fear the wolf will bite I've been a bully and a sinner, now I'm on the way out For the world I made is harder, the more your skin is dark This machine runs on its own This machine runs on its own This machine runs on its own This machine runs on its own