(Thanks, guys. And Ea, that soundtrack was commendably creepy).
The tubes.
The tubes are tiny
And flowing with flood
-information bottled
Up like blood
Ones and zeroes
Tumbling thick
Connections sizzle
And the walls all twitch
Terror kindles my grip
So my hands don’t dare slip
From the Fox’s tail
As we blaze a trail
Surfing this turf
Of databound goo
Upon his gleaming
Ball of blue
We’re no longer at sea
-the tube came to an end,
We fell through a tunnel
And round a bend
Parting a door
And clipping my jaw
(ow)
As we tumble onto
A marble green floor
The lights are astrobe
There are weird costumes and robes
We’ve fallen into
A raver’s cove
Glow-sticks
Some Mohawks
And punk-rockers too
liquids all frothy
-from booze to the sick-
the bars tend to move
and the patrons all slip
from corner to corner
wiggling their hips
Except the glow-sticks are long
tinted like spears
And there are arrows and bows
-Weapons to fear
“Your wife liked to party
With the crowds around here
So let’s all stay calm,
Just buy them a beer
And open your ear
You’ll find them quite friendly
If a little bit queer.”
There’s art on the walls
And paint on the ground
The loud music’s actually
A beautiful sound
Their deviants, you see
And creative expression
Is their particular deviancy.
.