When machines take hold of flesh and blood

And hurl it through the stratosphere,

The time will come for the mind of man

To turn to the heavens for its meat

And its wine.

When machines take hold of the seed of life

And ripen a thousand harvests in one season,

The time will come to think of the soul

Of man.

When machines take hold of everything

And there’s nothing left to take,

The time will come to face

The God of nothing

And pray.