The Pity of Dead Forums
Deriding on the Pity of Dead Forums, Login Window Monday morning fail Fifteen threads and fifteen restless posters, Three detractors and twenty-five attacks of rail.
All along the pointless odyssey The pain pulls at my bended knee Rolls along past blather, spam and feeds. Passin' strains that have no names, Scroll bars full of old grey bands And the graveyards of the busted logic screeds.
CHORUS: Good morning Web Crossing, how are you? Don't you know me I'm your native scum, I'm the pain they call The Pity of Dead Forums, I'll be gone five hundred posts when the day is done.
Dealin' snerk games with the jokers in the club thread. Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score. Slide the neon mouse that moves the pointer Feel the thumb wheels gliding 'neath the pad.
And the sons of pointless chatters And the sons of engineers Ride their father's magic carpets made of bits. Mothers with their feet asleep, Are rockin' to the gentle beat And the rhythm of the rants is all they feel.
Nighttime on The Pity of Dead Forums, Changing topics in case you didn't see. Half way home, we'll be dull by morning Through the misty snippy darkness Rolling down to the sea.
And all the talk and people seem To fade into a ghoulish dream And the open windows still ain't heard the news. The detractor sings his song again, The patrons will please refrain This forum's got the disappearing traffic blues.
Good night, Web Crossing, how are you? Don't you know me I'm your native scum, I'm the pain they call The Pity of Dead Forums, I'll be gone five hundred posts when the day is done.
CopyClef 2005 Steve Goodman, Arlo Guthrie, and Barsoom Tork Associates.