So here I go again
into the land of memedom.
On the Web I sure get around
All day, all night I am good
to do slews of meming.
My feet are not planted on the ground—
I’m in reverie.
Some may say I’m really sad,
but all their shrill chiding doesn’t make me feel bad.
“There is a cost,” some friends will gab, “to being lost.”

Enough! All their panning me is draining.
Take ‘em from my sight when I’m role playing.
I’m reading some; I want to read some more.
I do not need that naysaying corps, such bores.

So here I go again, it’s clear what is my mission.
What is that mission? It’s to sell
these fantasies that come across wrapped up as memes.
I believe these memes, I think they’re swell.
Memes can get me wet,
better than sex that I’ve had.
They can fill my head with thoughts that are mostly bad.
But it’s a cost, don’t make me sad, off sadness tossed.

Wonder at what I find entertaining,
although most of it transcends explaining.
Internet summons me and I go,
even though most of it’s mostly faux.

Bummer when it’s windy and it’s raining
and the Net goes down, “Come back!” I’m praying.
The Web and Net are nearly all I know.
When they’re back I hope a fuse don’t blow
Don’t blow! Couldn’t go faux. Oh woe!