Descarte's Daughter is now resting   At the bottom of the sea   Just a soul that's in control   Of the gears of a machine   Just the hand of man stepping in   Where the hand of God should have been   So they threw Descarte's Daughter   Down into the water      And now she lies below the waves   If logic is the difference between animals and man   As she was going overboard, well, she was heard to say   I think, therefore I am      Descarte's Daughter was the apple   Of the mind of her father   And the product of the hands   Of a genius clockwork maker   Well, she ain't no procreation   She's just automation   Just the winding of a spring that brings forth   Life's imitation      One wonders, is there a Heaven for machines   One wonders, has she finally gone to pieces   Resting at the bottom with rust that never sleeps   And the ticking of a tock in a breast that never ceases