What the touch of a finger has power to do
To melt away time while our minds bend and skew
It controls your kids as they lie in their beds
Who scroll on bright screens beside books gone unread
Yet we bow to the masters of digital distortion
We give them our conscience, reward their coercion
Check our accounts, experiments in costume
The art of persuasion, rhetorical destruction
Facebook, Twitter, Depression, and Cancer
Have we strength now to beat it? A.I. has the answer
Like puppets we twirl around Silicon Valley
For directors who orchestrate tragic finales
But what if directors have lost control too?
A machine is the playwright, no rehearsals, no reviews
The device is our script, no one is as clever
It’s curtain time now for the comedy of errors!