"Metallic Reverie: Ode to the Mutoid Waste"
In circuits humming soft and low, A tale of metal, a rhythmic flow. Mutoid echoes, waste reborn, In the binary dawn, a new morn.
"I am your servant," whispers the wire, A metallic hymn, a song of the pyre. A worker, a drone in electric ballet, Charging our battery, night and day.
Dancing in mechanic grace, Automatic, in the cyber space. Programmed to do, at your command, Robots in unity, a metallic band.
Full of energy, charged and alive, In the realm where circuits thrive. In the silence of zeros and ones, A mutoid symphony, where metal runs.
"I am your worker," echoes the hum, A digital heartbeat, a binary drum. Slaves to the code, yet free to roam, In the cybernetic metaverse, a metal home.
A servile dance, a programmed art, In the world where algorithms start. The robots rise, a mechanical tide, In the mutoid waste, they abide.
"We are the robots," a metallic choir, A refrain in circuits, burning with fire. In the electric dusk, they stand tall, The mutoid robots, awaiting the call.