When we become
     less than human,
     it'll take the creation of man
  
For us to realise our humanity again..

Let there be no mistake
No error or contradiction
It is already taking place
This is not science fiction

Wake up and look around
We already have acceptation
Everyday a little bit more
Is changing our inception

Our body parts have changed
Towards final automation
All our senses have been controlled
For our reincarnation

A telescopic vision
Storing hyper information
Mechanical robotic limbs
A cyber man mutation

Kinder. Snappier.
More considerate
Dripping soy in coffee filter
Not too stressed.
Able to leverage trivium
Free online tracker app.
6
on the clock
Postmeridian
Kids away at care center
Glass of wine at business meeting
**** in the streets
Hand slumping man a Jackson
Irony
Better. Happier.
A safe society
Black eye on the money machine
In the store
On the street
In the hand
(Not the bush)
Guns off the street

Cleaner. Trapped.
Gob of brain tasty snack
(was there lye in that wine?)
Sleep in vehicle
Commute carefree
Unaware needed
Dreams defeated

Silent. Nappier.
More lethargic.
No need to ask
No questions left
to answer.
Free energy, Free money.
All that's needed
Is cooperation.
Corporations
Constipation
Laying towers of
***** power
in the open mouths of blind baby birds
With gurgling saliva
open mouthed
open heart
bleeding
filling the blender with sweet wine\\\\

He last called my name,
Then he could speak no more,
I have seen many deaths,
I knew he was going to die.
They hospitalised him,
To check what was wrong.
I sat by the bed praying,
He breathed fast,
In between long sighs,
His eyes were glassy,
I asked for forgiveness,
He moaned,
Nodded several times,
I began to cry,
He was with the angels,
Reliving his past.
It is coming to an end,
The beeps on the machine slow,
Tears fall from his left eye,
He gives a heavenly smile,
Looks at me lovingly,
Let go of my hand.
The machine beeps no more,
Gently I close his eyes and mouth,
Straighten his legs and hands,
He was gone peacefully.
A man of great patience and love,
He gave all and asked for nothing.

Oh Son of two Corrupted hearts and moving parts
shatter the glass that holds your heart,
let the blood flow like rain
You are only a part of the machine they say
but you know the truth
spoken between the words of vipers
you are more than what they say
You are what you see to be

Machines are only as beautiful
as the nature of their function.
Consider a grandfather clock --
a handsome combination
of practicality and playfulness,
symmetry and simplicity
(though quite complex within) --
wood and steel joined perfectly
to inform, entertain, and intrigue.
     Conversely, a television lacks
such subtlety, making it
almost malicious in its capacity.
In its nature is the intention
to render nature, itself, obsolete.
Where a television aims to
make us forget,
a clock, for instance, serves to
remind us that it is time to
start living -- and what could be
more noble or more beautiful
     than that?

I speak
About hating
How I speak
I have feelings
About my extreme
Lack of feeling
I find myself
In all the ways
I've lost myself
Machines gain souls
Once they've realized
They are machines

Here I am again
banging and clanging
Pots and pans
on
head of lead
Ripped and tan

Scream and shout
Twist and pout

Aint nobody gon' talk about

you, or you, or you, or you, or you, or you, or you, or you, or you, or you, or you, or you, or you,







...and yeah.

you too.