A poem by Todd Bruss
Until the day when death has begun,
It sends away the life from the sun.
Slowly they drain logic from our minds,
Are we insane, all hand tools behind.
Dirty and unclean, life buried in sand,
Air can be seen, robots roam the land.
No birds that soar, noon dark as midnight,
No need for war, nobody to fight.
This is the day, roulette with no gun,
Brings forth the way, high tech has now won.
This poem is a fragment of what I remember. The original is from 1990.
