On my head,
there's a rusty crown,
and I'm playing chess,
on algorithm battleground.
My brain is down,
it's full of bugs I'm facing,
a total lack of orientation,
I'm disconnected,
lost and drifting on the way,
let's trade,
world wide map,
what the heck?
Turn off all the devices, now.
I won't troubleshoot,
I won't sort it out,
I'm going sailing,
on asphalt ground.
So where is he?
So where can he be?
Plastic bags,
like tumbleweed,
up in the branches,
of a chestnut tree.
A world like well,
lost in the internet,
I'm looking for advice,
but here's a group in my access,
how,
would I sort it out?
The math's fun,
and it's big,
no doubt,
I need an expert,
a specialist,
a tech doc, a software genius,
an operating system trick.
A
digital angel,
a digital angel.
Out on the field,
I lay on my back,
souls are dead,
and swirl around.