Isn’t it crazy,
how life imitates art?
How many books and films warned us
this wasn’t the right path?
Maybe we won’t go up in flames,
maybe we’ll just fade away:
soulless shells
drifting deep into the web.
No robotic wars,
no hell breaking loose.
We'll willingly give up our minds
for that endorphin blues.
Few artists to draw,
fewer writers to share,
only some of us
left to care.
Don’t let them win.
Don’t let this be real.
All nightmares fade
as long as some of us keep dreaming.
But let’s not dream of electric sheep
humans still have
a reason
to be.