Well, he was born as a lab rat

and he was raised as a spy;

to blend in with the others

and pretend to be shy.

He was a day trading Robot,

he was so fast and so mean.

He draw his gun on the whisper;

he was the deadly machine.

He killed his brothers and sisters,

just on the rumor of rain.

He pulled the trigger unshaken,

´there was a nickel to gain.

But when he'd killed all the others,

he heard a sound of a disc,

which got his wires to fizzle

and was an unguided risk.

He tried to locate the buzzer,

it seemed to come from his rack.

So he reloaded his weapon

and shot himself in the back.

When he was buried in Tombstone,

at the end of the war,

he was blessed by a preacher,

who was a Robot before.

He tried to rise from the bottom;

he rang the Golden Gate bell.

But he was told by the keeper,

he had to linger in Hell.

He had a rapid conversion

and was reborn as a man.

He got a job as a Robot

and all the killings began.

He was a creature of habit,

his track was clear as a sign:

There was a new star in Tombstone,

who got him two-thousand-nine.

Today he rests in the graveyard,

under the script of the stone:

"He killed his brothers and sisters

and now he's staying alone."

  2018 © Torbjorn Gideskog