Hawkwind

All Hail The Machine

The Machine feeds us & clothes us & houses us

Through the Machine, we speak to one another, in it we have our being.

The Machine is the friend of ideas & the enemy of superstition

The Machine is omnipotent, eternal

Blessed is The Machine

All this talk is as if a god made the machine

But you must remember that men made The Machine

Great men but men all the same

The Machine is much but it is not everything

There is something like you on the screen but you are not seen

There is something that sounds like you but you are not heard

In time, because of The Machine, there will come a generation that has got beyond facts

Beyond impressions

A generation absolutely colourless

A generation seraphically free from the taint of personality

All hail The Machine!