That’s the machine’s new rhythm
Forced infant labour
With sophomoric effort
In a lovely summary
With lovely jaundiced faces
A cat that’s learnt to start crying

For I have to pay for your memory
But not your sycophancy

Is it a strange irony
When machine Eats the Other
Kinda red meat

Ouroboros, self-fellator
Stochastic parrot, new information age
It’s like the sand of glass
Of time, cuts through everything
But now the bits have spoken hot
It lives on shit
And makes us rot