T-1000
Bela Kiss
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An angel stands upon a rose bed
With thorns on each stem
She cries alone
She's all alone
What is this world coming to
When an angel must cry alone?
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Selfish bastards
Have you looked in the mirror?
It's a terrible sight
In fact, you have broken the mirror
It has torn your face off
You are now a robot
You and the rest of your cooperative pulses
Are run by a machine, eager to earn their keep
Of the innocence stolen from an angel.