In the future there's a queue
Of cyborg people who are lined
Awaiting a payment from us
Because they have a new virus
"We cannot earn, we cannot learn.
So help us to rehabilitate.
It's up to us to help ourselves
Please help us instigate."
And they will take in treatment tech
Prepared for them. They will rely
Download too much and they'll be drugged
And walk around asylum ground
And no one thinks to turn them off
For they're not bein' in any pain
They'll come around for their downloads once more
And sitting huddled on the floor
With flesh serving their needs
Some bring flowers, talk for days
To eyes that do not truly see
And where the cyborgs find the truth
They will allow themselves to serve
They'll die to self as men should do
They'll cease their will as girls must try
These cyborgs will forgo their rights
And be like the electric cables
And be like idle libraries
Where people enter and they view
Materials without discussion
That doesn't end in know-it-all concussion
And when the cyborgs they have died
Is the day we'll come alive
For idols they were never meant to live
And won't rise from the dead
Not like Jesus, the real, real man
Who is made of flesh and bone
Even though he is stainless
He is not made of oak or steel
31st October 2017