8’o clock sharp
stereotype classes
Then algorithms for
evangelism and masses
A paradigm designed
For emotional automation
A bio-port hauls him
To a classroom station
Survival is contagious
Is a lesson he’s learnt in time
Doctrined against
All forces sublime
The threads of thought
are more virtual than believed
The louder the tears
The lesser is the grief
But his life aint a blast
One which Jetson might just not last
For the rate of knots
Is a wee bit too fast
How far can he go?
And what preludes his end?
Is he cribbing about this rat race??
Crumbling in this trend?
The ways of his life
Harsh, they might seem
But remember, the world still has plenty
Who aspire to dream.
And a spring to begin
Or a December without frost
A slumber to last through
Would be a crime to ask for .
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