Black and crude,
Pumping through tubes,
Did you know that they were once veins?
Mechanical demons,
Tearing at the ties that bind,
Man made angels,
Erecting another cross to bear,
How could God's man be so blind?
Slick with the stuff of dreams,
Made up on this damned whim,
Coating my hands,
Raining down from open wounds,
A bug in the system,
Letting me open glass eyes.
Prays whispered in monotone,
Pleading to be let rust.