This poem is about someone refusing to fit into societal standards but then mocks what everyone else is doing. While the narrator refers to people acting upon sin and following the crowd, the narrator feels angry that they feel forced into being like everyone else. "Mechanical Delinquents" is a metaphor for shaping non-conformists to be the same and be "good," while the irony is that the non-conformists are usually the ones with virtues, and the conformists are the ones that commit the bad deeds that "delinquents" are stereotyped into committing.


Sir…yes, Sir…

Tell me what to do,

Make me mechanical,

Take away all my etiquette.

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I'll robust to your fitting,

Submit to your pleasing.

I am a delinquent,

You're the cadet, my meaning.

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Mechanical delinquent…please make me conform,

I can't help myself; I need guidance that will place me in my form.

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Screw your laws, I must demise myself;

I feed off the anger.

I cannot contain obscenity any longer,

I'll rage against the propaganda.

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Make me numb; I'm robotic,

I must be Stepford, like the wife.

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I am a delinquent through law and rage,

Yell until my brakes take me away,

I'll be easy to drain

Once the oil stains the way.

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My heart is already dust;

Just sweep the remains,

Look, there is the sweeper,

Now, litter me all over.

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I am young but carry so much rebellion,

Through a world following chaos and misfortune.

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Mechanical delinquent…please make me conform,

I can't help myself; I need guidance that will place me in my form.

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Money all over

Sweat pouring rarity,

Deceit equals success,

Deadbeats run this city.

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Stoic faces,

Same routine.

Follow my lead to in-toxicity,

It's the norm; take my hand, please.

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Hand me my check,

I don't want to work hard,

Keep me unhappy,

I'll follow the drugs,

Unveil my debt of money,

And finish practicing debauchery.