The Inkpot Is Empty

The inkpot is empty the milkman a dream No need to wind the gramophone Innovation has wiped clean, The march of Orwell’s PC crumbles another zone Everyone is fixed to the face of their phone Dance bands just had to stop, Everyone’s fingers are dancing over Qwerty u-i-op. The net has been cast Far and wide across earth’s dish Mesmerising all of the caught human fish, No hook or by crook No man with such power, Performs its duty that makes you look. An electronic giant Who turned the first sod Its master just has to be, The power of almighty God.