The attenuated nervous system
of the urban core
spilling from the convoluted heart
that beats under the false floor
in the city cellphone spikes
are hidden in the church spires
even out here in the boondocks
you can see they still got wires
If I was in charge you know I’d
call for a great public works
power data transportation
call in all the young tech turks
dig the mass of network tunnels
lay the fiber set the tracks
wind the great superconductor
bundled thousand subtle hacks
Such a drifting Sunday dreamer
so enhanced with lofty flights
Of fancy but this world is dull
and sadly we must pick our fights
what
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