Eric Wolfram's Writing, (not my) Last Thoughts on Third Street

(not my) Last Thoughts on Third Street

When your browser is frozen
And you're sitting alone
And your cell starts ringing
And you can't find the phone
And your network is lagging
And your apps start to crash
And your shoulders start sagging
And you're done with your stash
And your drivers are twisted
And your disks start to fail
And your number's not listed
And you don't hear the bell
And your keyboard stops ticking
And deletes your email
And you're mouse starts a-clicking
Down that lost lonely trail
And your videos don't streem
And your audio just cracks
And no matter what you do
Those are the facts

And they're watching you closely
Which makes you feel ghostly
And your heart gets all empty
And your mouth gets all dry
And you eyes get all blurry
No matter how hard you try
You're neck deep in crypto
Just fading away
Like a carbon base diode
With nothing to say

Cause ebay doesn't help you
And neither does snap
And you don't find no hope
In that web porn star's lap
Or in that big bag of lies
Where you wish you could find
That hope that you stashed there
To jump start your mind

When you're modem was humming
But the lights did not flash
Your scrotum was bummin
You were getting a rash
When your carpal was tunneled
You had a creek in your neck
You submit your invoice
And they don't send your check
The whole trust is broken
And it gets you annoyed
With unending deadlines
You scream like Pink Floyd
But no soul hears you
At that work space boxed in
In your generic cube
Where they got you locked in
With nowhere to go
And and nothing to wear
Just technicolor boxes
To steal your best stares
While you're looking for something
Which just can't be found
On a tv screen
Or by clicking around

Cause MTV don't help you
Neither does deja
And yahoo is only
A symbolic hurrah
And no matter how hard you search it
You can't find a match
And you can't find the upgrade
And you can't get the patch

And a download don't do it
You can't zip their files
And wherever you look
You see fake plastic smiles
And half truths and lies
And marketing hype
And stock quoats and spam
That don't fit your pipe
Cause your bandwidth is choking
On this new paradigm
Cause your thoughts have stopped blooming
And you can't find the time
Cause your home page is crying
And you're taking a nap
Cause you're don't even know
That you're caught in a trap
Surrounded by walls
And steel and concrete
Existing without
The earth at your feet
On lawns with tar corners
And fake tinted glass
Which sucks out your hope and dignity fast
And they all grin at you
But you see deep in their faces
That they're looking for parking
And they take your best spaces
So you don't trust your friends
And you don't trust your wife
Ane you feel disconnected
From your purpose in life?

So where do you click to find that sun set you're seeking?
And what screen brings the smell of lilac a-creeping?
what do you do to keep your good thoughts a-flowing?
And who do you have to hold your candles a-glowing?
And what thought makes you jump up from your bed when you're sleeping?
And what are you leaving and what are you keeping?
And what compass do you use to point where you're going'?
And why not admit that we know what we're knowing?

And where do we click to find that HOPE that we're seeking?
And where is the hope that we all know is out there -- somewhere?
Now a great man once said that there were two places to find hope
In the church of your choice or in Brooklyne State Hospital
(God being in the church of your choice, and Woody Gutherie being in the Brooklyn State Hospital)
And I saw hope, one time, pouring down San Francisco Bay at the edge of the Marin headlands at sunset.

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