Nightmares Return
From Bent
Nightmares Return
As a closer, “Nightmares Return” steps well outside their classic-rock blender, and the gamble mostly pays off. At a slow, deliberate pace in a major key, it builds a cold, industrial dystopia where workers are reduced to numbers, and the chorus lands the thesis cleanly: “People ain’t numbers. You can’t reduce / A hand to score, a name to use,” a line that rhymes back to “Human Capital” and closes the album’s loop. The robotic pitch-shifting and buzzing low end can feel a little airless across the long middle stretch, but the payoff is real: that final section strips the beat away into a reflective synth-pad coda, and “now I am dust inside the plan” hits harder for the silence around it, especially after the human warmth of “At What Cost.” Not their most inviting cut on first pass, but it rewards repeat plays. A grower for the faithful.
Lyrics
They're just some motherfuckers The reason to remind these motherfuckers Is cashing down the backers Throwing the two buckets into one Money when it's all well
It's like a bad dream… I am in a pen, all dressed the same The Bent are in here with me A light-it flashes quickly I see the number three The others too have numbers Most different from me We stand before a press And force the mandrel down We do this without stopping And never make a sound The minders walk among us Making notes upon a pad
I've tried to track the numbers I've watched them rise and fall One Bent slept through second bell And now he's not here at all Another dropped her mandrel Her number dropped to two She wept-but only briefly Then she was taken too I thought it was performance But no one works less hard I thought it was behavior But they hold all the cards There's whispers of a formula But no one knows the sum The screen just flickers softly And hums to make us numb
People ain’t numbers. You can’t reduce A hand to score, a name to use We built this place before the war Before the metrics, masks, and lore Ain’t no chart that cares for pain No slogan grace when names get drained We helped each other-that was real Now ghosts sign off what bots conceal
This morning I was still a three I kept my pace mechanically I wiped the press, I checked the gate I said no words. I wasn't late But mid-shift brought a subtle tone My chestplate flashed, the digit shone The minders came. I did not run No trial, no form-just marked: "One"
People ain’t numbers. You can’t reduce A hand to score, a name to use We built this place before the war Before the metrics, masks, and lore Ain’t no chart that cares for pain No slogan grace when names get drained We helped each other-that was real Now ghosts sign off what bots conceal
"The scores are calculated fairly" "Based on factors we don't share" "The system knows what's needed" "So stay focused. Just do more\!" "Questions show misalignment" "Your pain serves the greater gain"
People ain’t numbers. You can’t reduce A hand to score, a name to use We built this place before the war Before the metrics, masks, and lore Ain’t no chart that cares for pain No slogan grace when names get drained We helped each other-that was real Now ghosts sign off what bots conceal
No reason given. No mistake Just hands that guide and eyes that take No farewells, no one allowed The floor resumes. The heads stay bowed I was a name. I was a hand Now I am dust inside the plan The screen goes dark The door slides wide And I am nothing now