In this lost tunnel of nonsense,
Who knows where the future lies?
To whose awoken ego do we now listen?
On whose voice do we rely?
Enter such kings & queens of chat,
Where life is edited on the fly,
Harpo controls above the armholes,
But pedicures cannot lie,
Yet who pushes our own bu*tons?
When the robots control our clicks,
The system's coma waggles all our ta**els,
For every tock & every tick,
Look beyond the apparent dual nature,
To the rule of three:
Where one believes,
And the other disbelieves,
Under the watch of the one who sees,