Harlots - Consensus For The Locus Of Thought

What employs destroys all life.
Sail this sea of fire with me and lift up our decay.
The human war machine marches on.
Unfurled like avalanches crushing downward onto us.
Mainframe die.
Like a cancer slowly evolving to suppress antigen, fueling the beast
There is no space in time.
I'm trying to find my way back to this place again.
But I cannot find like so many others before me a way to unlatch from its grasp.
A way to be free of its tasks.
My brain is artificial intelligence.
Shut it down.