Electro Poem by Zyw Zywa

The robots are served
by me, I have no choice
They squeak horribly
when I don't do it well

Then I hear the people
who don't get enough
They are entitled to their dose
of electronic alcohol

and to a nice development
of their plants, growth and
flowering with artful scents
controlled in the room next-door

After the beverage sensation, there is a choice
between avatars and dreams
with or without sex -
everything Bien de Luxe

After work done, it is sweet
to rest for those who are in the pass
of electronic life
that knows what is good for us