I am intelligent life
Intemperate, moody and fissile
I sit here and sharpen my knife
Or polish my Tomahawk missile
I have my brilliant brains
They have an inordinate mass
I deal in human remains
And cultivate species of gas
I have a great cerebellum
It bulges in all the right seams
Why write on parchment or vellum
When I can hack into your screams?
No-one can count to my IQ
No-one knows numbers so great
I’ll punch you if I do not like you
That is a matter of state
Replace me with robots and droids?
Swap me for heartless machines?
Look in my eyes, see the void –
Do you know what intelligence means?
Click here for a Telegraph article