Perhaps it was your upbringing, a mother gorilla and dad calculator,
Which frustrated and inspired you to use the death ray Calcinator!

And destroy all forms of life on earth, every animal and human being,
Except for five, including Alice, for whom you had very strong feelings.

You come from Ro-Man, which is also your real name, coincidentally.
That must be a lot of pressure to live up to, physically and mentally.

And Great Guidance questioning all your calculations is a raw deal,
It’s no wonder you resemble nothing but a pooped-out pinwheel.

While the humans thwart your every move and look at you nonplussed,
Your motivation becomes more complex, you, “cannot, but you must!”

“At what point on the graph,” you ask, “do must and cannot meet?”
No answer found, you “cannot, but you must,” you glumly repeat.

And so we bid farewell, Robot Monster, as we escape this land,
In a rocket ship held aloft by an uncredited crew member’s hand.

I shall think upon you often, you half-robot-half space creature,
Whose calculations failed you, much like my Algebra teacher.