I.C. Timer

On a plain,
In a storm,
There they prayed
And there we got born.
Rarely made,
In rare form.
Fairly played
And fairly forlorn.
God bless the cyborgs at your door,
Retching rich regrets on the bathroom floor.
It feels like it’s been here 77 times before.
We wish they would loose their appetites
For alcohol and acolytes.
Still the starving set their sights on more.
We had the jury hung,
We had the judge strung up-
And at the gallows steps
The twelve civilians slept.
The drunken doctor almost cried
When he saw the cell divide.
«In 30 days and 3 weeks time
This new body will fit fine!»
«Sit down, stand up.»
This order is a set-up.
«Sit down, stand up.»
This set-up is a set-up.
I’ll trade my mind for the written line!
I’ll trade my eyes for satellites!
I’ll trade my hands for iron clamps!
I’ll trade my lungs for vacuum pumps!
That’s what we wanted!