Internet Addiction, by Charles Carreon
Trust old Bak to steer you right,
I've burned the oil into the night
To find the scrap of evidence
To prove what should be obvious
That everyone is quite obsessed,
In a clinical sense
And needs to go to detox
In a computer-free space.
The statistics are in,
Your brain is burning dim,
And hitting that space bar
Isn't going to take you very far,
And posting just one more reply
Just isn't going to get you by.
The sun is calling,
But you don't hear it.
Your son wants to play ball,
But you won't go near it.
Just admit it,
You've got to quit it,
Your mother should see you like this.
Just look at this place,
The beds unmade,
There's dust on the table
And there isn't a maid,
So look that face in the mirror,
And don't turn away,
It's the face of addiction
People are polite
Too polite to say what they think
That your mind's on the blink
If you were clicking for dollars they'd all approve,
But you were just following the spiritual groove
And in all that time
You left but one impression
On the seat
Of your swivel chair.