Poor Atlas

I'm building a body
From balsam and ash
I'm building a body with
No god attached.

I'm building a body
From blueprints in Braille
I'm building a body
where our design has failed.

There's a book full of plans
at the feet of poor Atlas
Titled 'For Man'
But the architects
Only drew blanks,
Now there's nowhere to go
But go back, go back,
Go back, go back.