Insulated and isolated
In rows and rows of cubes
With the blue screen for the sky
The key board strokes for the music
Farming with the servers
The phone for the neighbour
Lives our laptop farmer of today.
Indifferent to the rain and the sun
The freezing cold or the blistering heat
The only weather barometer we know
Is the thermostat knob.
Seven cubes away, seven seas away
Or seven planets away
We only ping to chat.
We talk to ourselves into the blue tooth
In the park, a party and everywhere.
Our days change, our friends change
With each and every client
We are cube dwellers of the information world.