In a different age from now
there'll stand a placid plastic cow.
His automatic eyes will click,
his specially programmed tail will flick,
and he'll drink his meals straight from a tube,
prepared especially, like his mood.

Dim memories crowd of a distant past
when once the concrete fields were grass.
A time when all contented cows
gave milk 'neath nature's leafy boughs,
when all the birds sang in the air;
his memory banks whirl, click, unfair!

The watchers see ~ a switch is thrown,
such thoughts it seems are not unknown.
But in this world of automation,
free thought is sin,
and dreams of ages past,
Temptation.