In the machine is cold and steel
And screws and bolts and rivets and blood
The perfect angles all aligned
To keep the engine running cold
And breathing.
Inches of wire and dust to dust,
The wheels are turned around, around
The cogs connect with one another
Underneath the body.

Graceful movements, perfect timing
Mechanistic clockwork dancing
Throws a piece of splintered steel
With calculated force.
Only dying for a purpose
Something has to keep it running
Making absolutely sure that it can never
Take a hatchet to its inner parts
Its warm and faulty little pieces
Tiny little bits and pieces
Soon will do it in.
Keep it running cold until the universe implodes.