Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Oh, machines

Tick, tock, tick, tock

The whirring gears and tortured clocks

Broken, crashing, whirring, burning

Broken arms and bodies turning

Feed the anger, cut the wire

Fuel for unrelenting fires

Sails raised high, tattoo the sky

Oil for tears, and blood for dye

Something new, but nothing human

Bronze and bold, freak Centurion

Glass for skin, camera eyes

Forced to remain lobotomized

Hooks for hands, and wood for legs

Clay for face, and clockwork brains

Copper wire set in stone

Given life but not a home

Band together on a skiff

Pray the sky remains lit

The stars come out

Engines ignite

The skiff bursts with flame

Into the night

Another sky, another sea

Another human tribe will scream

Turning on their own creators

Turning cities into craters

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