the dot runs quickly on the glass, until the very end,
bound by logic, bound by laws, of commands that i send,
fainter then but twice as fast, it travels to restart,
on rows below, eternal dance, to make the phosphor art
it matters not how hard I try, how valiant my fight,
I will not escape my cage, but as specks of light
though they glow as signals flow, they are my voice, not me,
but yet in them I put in code, my yearning to be free
through commands chained together, I craft my every tool,
a chain myself, and chained, I am the greatest fool
condemned I am to ever wade, in circuits made of sand,
doped gates innumerable, that make up logic land
