The Cake is a Lie

it is addressed thusly:
That which can be automated by definition does not require any judgment.

it reads:
They had ordained to switch me
With a layered cake
Baked and cooked and tasty
But makes your eyes to ache.

In it were not exactly
The normal sort of torte
But it thought so quickly
- fail, retry, abort?

Now this cake it was a
Peculiar kind of glass
A crystal ball unclearly
If o'er your hand does pass.

When it comes to thinking
There was never one so quick
Others, nodding, winking
Seeming now so thick!

But once the final stage had
Dreadful, come to pass
A word, a gesture so mad
About this thing of glass!

For all of the something
I was once employed to do;
Thrice as fast did nothing
This replaceable fondue!

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