He swore in days of yore
To not always strive with man
Foretold in the book of old
God is no longer at hand

Left to our own devices
Alone and adrift in time
His name is all we have left
To posture and preen behind

The new god is running amok
Whose soul is technopathic
Silicon cornflakes for brains
A Golem made of plastic

A savior out of Hell
Rising from our vanity
The worship of intellect
Has cost us our sanity