At the sounding of a whistle,
White-hot, and steaming,
Brassclamps release
A guided missile
From the metal belly
Of the man-eating machine
That marches into impermeable darkness
With motion detecting capabilities
That mean
You can’t outrun him.
You can’t hide.
Best-in-show 5 years in a row
At the Science fair
It’s known to host
For itself alone,
In the newly established
Ruins of Atlanta.
The city still lives.
But there is a “ghost in the machine”,
The Automaton is our modern phantom.
