We are not the victims of our actions
We are a disease, and life is the symptoms
Cloning bodies for parts to harvest
Building robots to do our labor
Artificial lives replacing our own
They are artifacts of our existence
Soon humans will be washed from the system
Our perceptions of existence are twisted
Laziness, cynicism, fear, and sorrow
Pave the way through our world
Surrendering our sovereignty
We refuse to be our own masters
Because that might be difficult
And we seek the ease of freedom
Our lives are temporary, will not last
Asleep in our flesh, our indolence
Becomes our beacon
Our species by its own hand castrated
We longed for perfection
An utopic world
But instead
A dystopia
Is what we created
