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The righteous Robot knows not of his own sin,
For he views himself with eyes that are so dim,
He judges others by his own narrow view,
Misunderstanding what it is they do.
Look at the mice; they mass around the grain,
Clawing, biting never knowing shame,
Like starving ants that kill their very own,
To sit superior on the Devil's throne.
The masses watch; processed and arranged,
Divided in decision but what is far more strange,
Is their willingness to follow those they criticize,
Because they fear the truth, thus choose to believe their lies.
And many wish to be there in the seat of power,
With a switch beside their bathtub to turn on and off the shower.
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