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What is it that makes us human ? It's not something you can program, you can't put it into a micro chip. It's the strength of the human heart; the difference between us and machines. Terminator Salvation. J Brancato & M Ferris.

History will be scrawled by the victorious and the past rewritten curious
paper shattered print in the arenas of a deceits convenience
careless in the blood ink of a mutilated populace
slicing the throat of humanity is the killing off of Jesus

Behind the blue sky sterile mask no-one smiles
the streets filled with lies and the eyes of duty
performance and self-righteousness
bring their cavalcade carnival of unthinking sufferance

These days are stranger than the times we need
these are the strangest days indeed
the worst we could have thought of or even dreamed
as this unfolding programs narrative came to be
 
Our future being written by a ghoulish credit demon
trailing egocentric evil in its wake
as our souls become the medium of transaction
autonomy being shrink-wrapped to the taste of a birthday cake

Should we see too much of our unity
revealing the weakness in all their schemes 
but be prey to our narcissistic endangerment's
and leave this indolence of a questionable gift to our next generations inheritance

A war is being waged against the prisoners
the mad media circus of insanely perilously incorrect
shall confusion and its fear of my god what's happening here
rule our hearts and this miracle instead

Is life just the physics of a scientists economic dream
is living merely a part in the cogs of a machine
have we lost all faith in connection and the great universal design
are we sleeping in the dread quagmire of our minds

This dystopian science-fiction movie quoted from a book
becomes a present day reality in which no-one dares to look
we are falling by the wayside on evolution's road
because there's nothing left but money to pay the futures banknote

Stranger than the days we need these strange days indeed
the looming air of poisons currency 
its one world or its government 
as terror becomes the god we all hold in disrespectful reverence
while life and love become the Christmas cake
shrink-wrapped trinket pinned to a hopeful shelf

A stranger in our blood indeed 
these times we do not need
these are the strangest days of humanities decent
to the pits of fabricated Hades 
the worst we could have thought of 
none of us even dreamed of
as this unfolding programs narrative 
slipped its oily noose around us
and came to be
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