Deeper into the mud... led by the angel. John Doe is looking around,
delighted and -
frankly begins to go insane. The computerbrain can't find such a
"feeling" in it's data
banks and becomes alarmed...

Machine:
Outside the breathing space
Like a bunch of metal pushed into my veins
John Doe:
Hasta la vista, oh la-la negras putas, muchos cojones!
It's so beautiful here...
Machine:
Vegetation, out of my files
Weird like death, like rusty metal
The Angel:
How do you feel? Laa-la-laa... you're out of line!
Machine:
Death! Death!
(Hey!) Now it's a crime to walk down here
This is not our property, somebody's charging us
The Angel:
No, no, no! It's not true!
Here we are all free, free from your sins!
Machine:
Sure it's all safe?
Reminds me of an overload
Surrounded by chaos
I'm just a hunter's prey
The Angel:
Benedictus esto inter peccatores, dominus tecum!
John Doe manages to escape from the circuit of the computerbrain, the
body
impregnated with despair is slowly getting rid of its chronic
depression. The Angel is
watching from aside with a contented smile. The computerbrain is
starting to feel a
reduction of electric charge in itself.
Machine:
I can't find my memory
I'm short of breath, I only feel
Files are messed up, hi-tech gone
Wanna get back, this is not fun!
I escape, I am scared
I'll be lost anyway
Comfortable? It's too hot
I'm afraid of what is not
Why do you smile, don't like it
Feel too much, I feel sorrow
I should stay pale behind my monitor. LET ME GO!
The computerbrain runs away trying to escape... John Doe is somewhere
else... Revelling
deep in pleasure.
Machine:
American dream
You made yourself spoiled
I've been livin' in a dream for too long
They forced me to pay, but now, here, today...
Choir:
YEAH! YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!
Machine:
Is this way right or wrong?
Should I go... right or left?
It's too hot, faith no more
I feel wet, I will die!