The Age Of Pozitrons
Immunology

sweet air
birds are falling
nightmares are outside my mind, calling
I stand on an island in the middle of the ocean
I wait for the starships and look back to my life

I see leather gloves and wet jerked skin, crying machines
the men whom I executed were priests and other insects
but they were living objects
not like me

in fact I am a murderer
in fact I am a victim
industrial nature needs tools like me
no more mankind rules
now is the age of pozitrons

this prison was so dreary but the judge was equitable
finally starships are coming
they will take me back to my planet
I would be lucky if I could

in fact I am a murderer
in fact I am a victim
industrial nature needs tools like me
no more mankind rules
now is the age of pozitrons