We all await for the tune 'You've Got Mail!'
The machine without the master,
The master without the machine.
We sell our souls on the information superhighway
Here comes Webvan with our food,
Backspacing our own horizons.
Date electronically, like legalized prostitution
bought my sweetheart on the internet,
why don't you E-Bay my head?
Little electrons constantly IM'ing us for fun
A digital social life,
Another facade of the world.
An advancement in technology, a leap in evolution
I see the downward spiral,
E-mailing us to hell.
Confess and confer to all the world instantly
Now man is a number,
Who is your God now?

06/14/2002

Author's Note: This is actually one of my very few angst poems. You probably noticed while reading it. I wrote this before the supposed 'Y2K' bug, and actually was kinda looking forward to the downfall of the digital society, not like I'm an anarchist or anything.

Posted on 06/14/2002
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