Modern World Blues (Hey, Bob) (Homage to Bob Dylan)

Choo-chooooo! Well, the influencer girls are all posting, of course Tech bros are trying to build their new source A virtual reality, a digital force But the masses have no need to be worried The ghost of cancel culture, she hands down her wrath To the woke warrior, who screams in his bath A new hashtag for the algorithm's path At the head of the social media platform Mama's in the gig economy She ain't got no time Daddy's in the metaverse, searching for a rhyme I'm in the kitchen, with a feeling of grime The influencer girl, she's crying on her feed Screaming, "I've been hacked, my life's a fraud, I bleed!" Sends for the therapist, who says, "Just believe That your followers are your only friends" Now, the life coach comes and he shuffles inside He walks with a swagger, and he says to the bride "Stop all this whining, swallow your pride You won't die, it's just a digital wound" Mama's in the gig economy She ain't got no time Daddy's in the metaverse, searching for a rhyme I'm in the kitchen, with a feeling of crime The woke warrior, after canceling a star Looks up at his hero, the tech billionaire Saying, "Tell me, great hero, but please, make it clear Is there a way to escape this digital snare?" The tech billionaire answers while scrolling his feed Saying, "Data is power, and algorithms bleed" And dropping his phone, he points to the screen Saying, "The future is coded, it's not what it seems" Mama's in the gig economy She ain't got no time Daddy's in the metaverse, searching for a rhyme I'm in the kitchen, with a feeling of time The psychology of the clickbait and the meme Causes the philosopher's book to get thrown At the lonely influencer, who sits all alone But the tears on her cheeks are from boredom I wish I could give the artist his great thrill I've set him in chains, at the top of the hill Send them out for some clicks and a viral drill He could die happily ever after Mama's in the gig economy She ain't got no time Daddy's in the metaverse, searching for a rhyme I'm in the kitchen, with a feeling of prime Where the old musicians and the new ones collide The algorithms now, they rehearse in the void And the streaming service at a profit, sells soul guides To the lonely hearts and the digital divide I wish I could write you a melody so plain That could hold you dear lady from going insane That can ease you, cool you, and cease the pain Of your useless and pointless scrolling Mama's in the gig economy She ain't got no time Daddy's in the metaverse, searching for a rhyme I'm in the kitchen, with a feeling of mime