Data
copyright ©1993 by Blind Lemming Chiffon
Tune: Garbage, Bill Steele

 
Mr. Thompson doesn't freebase; no, he merely uses dBase
To sort out the minute details of transactions and events.
He backs up every day at three; worships his holy D.A.T.,
And fills it up with gigabytes of stuff that makes no sense.
He'll buy another hard drive soon; the old ones are too small.
He can't download selectively--he has to have it all!

Oh, data (data data data) data (data data data)
He's filled up all his drives with data.
What will he do when there's no place left to store all the data?

Mr. Thompson pulls his notebook out: he knows what time is all about.
With mobile phone and modem he stays plugged in to the net.
So long as he has E-mail he has no need for a female,
No love, no human contact, no excitement, no regrets.
He knows precisely how he's deviated from the norm,
And how he will evolve to a superior life form:

Data (data data data) data (data data data)
The poor dumb bastard lives for data.
What will he do when his emotions are replaced by data?

In Mr. Thompson's factory to bolster connectivity
They manufacture modems of most every speed and size.
They're helping out our nation by transferring information,
For, don't you see, the more we know, the more we will be wise.
Ignore those fools who postulate that somewhere down the road
If we fill our brains up too full, they are certain to explode with

Data (data data data) data (data data data)
We're filling up our minds with data.
What will we do when there's nothing left to think,
When we each are just a link in an endless human chain,
Made of many human brains? We'll relinquish all our human souls
To some gigantic trivia bowl. We only need the facts
And a few hypercard stacks of data.