Hi tech at breakneck, but
we all sweat the small stuff.

I've met enough in my time to fill up a book and on each page a rhyme.

But at the last of us
we'll all be back to
the abacus.

Who needs computers that shoot us so full of **** and bits that can byte us and who's always right?
us?

Thing is,
the screen sits like Jesus,
on the table it reads us,
promoting agendas and that's
what the end is.

Formula one
Algorithmic and intense it
kicks all the sense from us
and ladles in tables and ****
sites and my nights are far
from dull.

I understand the pull of it
Google and broadband sit within
spitting distance of God and it's odd
don't you think that each time you blink a light goes off down the Amazon.

( that takes a bit of imagination, but Firefox being in on the creation makes it sound good)

Jerusalem.

Bring me my beads and frames made from wire
bring me connections for the pyre
'cause in the end. all it will be
is the abacus and me.