I boldly went to meet the world back in 1963
I fought urban blight and for civil rights
and brought a President to his knees
But today there is a Prometheus plight
which has spread like a disease
It is this computerized cacophony I call
the pain of the PCs.
After many modern authors had said I was deprived
I finally cowed and capitulated
buying Windows 95
But I think companies conspired consciously to make computers run our lives
First my Hal said What a dunce then ate up my hard drive
The computer froze up 15 times and so I had to wait
I briefly installed my little mouse but that it quickly ate
I typed in my old poetry but they suffered the same fate
Oh, the modern miracle! Who would hesitate?
I typed an essay, saved the file disappearing who knows where
I even used the finder but Hal claims it isnt there
I cried to my friend on the phone This just isnt fair!
But all he could do was speak his mantra: Make a back-up. Be prepared.
2,000 hours and 2,000 dollars
Boy am I in debt!
But they say I wont ever be complete until I surf the Net
So I spent countless hours while the server couldnt connect
And when I finally reached the host all it had was Cyber sex!
I was going to type a love poem, but Im no longer so romantic
So Ill turn off my computer now and throw it in the attic
I need pen and paper and a coffee shop
Now, that makes me ecstatic
Please pour me some more Java
and leave the computing to the addicts
*I wasn't really born in the 1960s, I used it for story-telling purposes.