99 Bottles of beer on the wall 99 bottles of beer Take one down pass it around 98 bottles of beer on the wall 98 Bottles of beer on the wall 98 bottles of beer Take one down pass it around 97 bottles of beer on the wall 97 Bottles of beer on the wall 97 bottles of beer Take one down pass it around 96 bottles of beer on the wall 96 Bottles of beer on the wall 96 bottles of beer Take one down pass it around 95 bottles of beer on the wall etc etc
A given mission, mechanical assault, manufactured devotion.
Red eyes, an upside-down form. Even the twisted shape was made to be that way.
No matter how cruel the slaughter, worse than a demon's,
or how gentle the kindness, greater than an angel's,
a machine has neither will nor madness—only code, and a few bugs.
So why, then, does it feel so unbearably sad?