Them clunky boxes, tracking us down, can't get away, can't get around. knowing your name, your credit card number, even your dreams, when you slumber. Millions of dollars, spent each year, buying gifts on the net, to spread christmas cheer, but them clunky boxes, will never love you. tell it to papa, and mama, it's true. They access your name, and give you a file, if they think you are dangerous, they follow you around. Them clunky boxes, will never love you. But you love him dearly, but claim it ain't true. those clunky boxes want to do you harm, and pretty soon, they'll be in your arm, he threatened to hurt us, at the millinieum year, talkin' bout' cuttin' off stuff, flexin his muscles, causing us fear. He takes all the jobs, from the guys at the plant, but we keep plugging him in, and he don't love you, But you love these computers, tell me it's true?
Reason for writing:
I know. . . It is ironic that I choose to denouce the use of computers, via a computer. . .we rely on them too much-- dangerous!
Birth sign: Libra
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