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Nights no longer cold

 Backs no longer bent

 Hands no longer calloused

 With nature as our slave

 Cultivating masses

 Our cities dim the stars

 Fully formed intellection

 So far from initial conception

 Bring hammer to steel

 Build an era through anguish

 Flourish thrown upon us

 With no known notion of collapse senses acute and woes fade

 Absolution, a second chance

 We’ll see what the masses are made of

 Approaching a harmonic convergence of enlightenment

 We’ve found our people’s existential parable

 We are gods on ivory thrones

 I am the unmaker

 Sleepless pushing the boundaries

 Burning candles at every end

 Technological advances

 Engage autopilot

 We are now automata

 Pull the power source and shut off

 No person left with personality

 The parasitic species drains their native land

 Magma forms obsidian skin

 Petros ichor courses their veins

 This is not the utopia we’d hoped for

 Unwise to the watchful eyes pulling the strings of demise

 “Oh, woe is me” the masses scream

 So far disconnected from veracity

 Boiling under

 Occluded by darkness

 We are the Watchers’ false hope

 Stone upon stone upon stone upon bone