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,