Some crooked angels from Silicon Valley
Those who live in the dark in full light
Said: Go be virtuous in vice
From screens with blues bluer than blue
Now my story is a dense algorithm
That sells blindfolds to real sellers
My neurons took on a new rhythm
And more, and more, and more, and more, and more
Arab Spring, and right after, the horror
Wanting the world to end
Macabre clown leaders sprouted
In the empire and its vast backyards
As millennia-old empires return
Armed with total controls
Angels already mil- or bil-, or trillionaires
Command only their mils, bils, trillions
And we, when we're not suckers
Listen to Shoenberg, Webern, Cage, songs
No skin, screen to screen
What could be salvation?
Which cloud, if there's not even space
No time, no yes, no no
But there are poems like never
Or like some poet dreamed
Back when there were times long ago
I go, why not? I go
Some crooked angels from Silicon Valley
They struck deep the tiniest grain
And while we ask about the beginning
Miss Eilish does everything from the bedroom with her brother