And neglecting all the other work,
Eyes glued to the machine,
That impairs our vision,
Not looking up even for a second.
Affecting our temper,
Which is spilled over in a froth of rage.
And whenever I ask the lord above,
“Oh! When will we change?”
I always get an answer,
“Maybe not today.”
So what is the irony in this?
Well, won’t you be reading this on your phone?