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The machine we’ve built

Is killing us

Drilling us

With stuff we don’t need.

Noxious nioxins,

Dioxins, toxins

One-millionth of an ounce

That weigh heavy on our hearts.

Chemicals you can’t pronounce

Not in God’s vocabulary

Or even His syllabury

Outside His constabulary.

There’s no avoiding

Pure poison.

It’s homicide

From the inside



From all sides.

Like King Cnut, you can’t stop the sea

It’s a toxic ride

This chemical tide.

And don’t get me started on plastic

The planet’s gone spastic

Our cells are stiff, not elastic.

Time to take steps that are drastic

Go recluse, go monastic

Go ecclesiastic

Our soul’s achondroplastic

Stuck together with mastic.

(I’m not even being sarcastic.)


A billion killers inside of us

Working from the inside out.

An inside job.

You have to believe me, believe me

Or the men in white coats

Will relieve me, relieve me

Of my freedom.

They’re tryna freeze me

Or tease me

But I ain’t laughing.

Freedom, huh?

A mere illusion

A flight-of-fancy allusion

Or a collusion

A cruel delusion

To sow confusion

In the minds of men

And keep them small.

Stop them walking tall.

Make them crawl.


I feel invaded, assaulted

Colonised, monopolised, deported

Body and soul occupied

By a foreign force.

Institutionalised by institutional lies.

Victimised, mesmerised, alienised

By the promise of riches


Money’s been weaponised.

And we’ve been monetised.


That’s it.

That’s the lie.


Hidden in rationality

Everyday banality

Reasonable proportionality

Contact-less functionality

Newtonian causality

Intellectual principality.

In truth, it’s a profanity

A modern form of insanity

Certainly vanity

Is the monetisation of our humanity.


Whatever you are

Brother, sun, husband, wife

The curse of The Machine

Is to value money over life.

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