Necro Tech from Doom Folk by Buzzard

Here comes the future. You know what’s next.
The dark age of necrotech.
Microchips in a dying brain
Electrify and rearrange.

Genetic tools revive the dead
To float in space or dream in bed
Without a care in the world.
No woman, man, boy, or girl

Biodegrades or disappears.
Grins last a billion years.
Tombs turn into labs.
Cadavers sit up on their slabs.

Circuit boards in their skulls,
Decapitated kings evolve.
Cybernetic chromosomes
Control a walking pile of bones.

So alone.

Newborn babies get put down
To be uploaded to the cloud
Where they enjoy their mother’s kiss
In virtual eternal bliss.

The crime of suicide gets worse,
For every death must be reversed.
Chained to their immortal coil,
Poets locked in prison toil.

So alone.

Prometheus was analog.
Necrotech’s the computer god
Reanimating DNA
Until a godless Judgment Day

When finally the sun explodes.
Trillions of terabytes of data load
To cosmic rays and fill the void
With simulated joy.

So alone.

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