The Machine drives us to move, and to do, but not to think.
It drives us to follow, and to produce, but not to be happy.
Were driven to work, and to be used, but not to excel.
Driven to live, and then to die, but not to be satisfied.
The Machine is our god, and it is our devil, but neither wants us to have a soul.
It is all our wants, and it is all our needs, but only because it says what those must be.
We are what it wants, and also what it needs, but only because we need it to be pleased.
It is what it is, and that's all that it is, but we can all see that it wants to be everything.
The Machine has no soul, and no reality, but what