In the corridor of time
I peeped through the keyhole of 2099.
The television said the nuclear war might be tomorrow
The radio said,
The globe has warmed up
And the North Pole has melted away
The phone said to the man with it,
I lie in a hospital bed;
No name to my face,
Small and skinny,
But I doubt you’ll forget a face like mine.
It’s a new era,
No more type writers;
They are in the gutters.
No more desktops;
In the queue are laptops.
We have I –pads;
We have note pads.
But after the I -pads what next?
We will use the wind to send a text!
Just like blowing a kiss!