Oh internet! With each fresh scandal
You react instead of think
And light up, like a Roman candle,
And produce a horrid stink.
Maybe, you'll finally get a handle
On DC Comics and the Pink.
That stuff's such a horrid bore.
I'll play some music, then some more
Tonight is Twelfth Night, all's reversed
The poor act as if wealthy
Those who were blessed pretend they're cursed
And sickly men play healthy.
Sports fan now all take the field;
The pros sit up in bleachers.
Thieves listen to lies relieved
By apologetic preachers.
The master has become the slave
Servants enjoy their time
All the cowards are made brave
I'll play covers at nine.
Time for a year-end mystery
Where did all the time go?
There are so few clues
The whole thing simply boggles me
No one seems to know
I guess I'll play some tunes.