I click to transfer info,
I click to send kisses,
I click to share impressions
And my finger is tired
To translate my thoughts.
Not my middle finger, though.
Look up there is a cloud
Data are absorbing me,
The blue light of the screen is tuning my circadian rhythm,
Old samples accumulate
And I have forgotten my vision.
That question pulls me,
That chocolate gives me five minutes of heaven.
Look up, there is a cloud,
had you noticed?
The chart tells it and sells it
A single figure is drawn
from months of conjectures and rubber gloves
To Tell the reality, as we see it.
In thin line and filled dots,
The chart shows a relationship
And we feel like a big family.
Chocolate grip
The noise of these data is killing me
One dot at the time,
Shooting on the blank space.
Lack of order and lack of grip
On this rushing days
Condense in chocolate abuse.
