The Continental Seam

Print me off a decolog
A rambling, reeling monologue
Of that wildly creeping demagogue
You keep in your machine.

Fax me off a file folder
Of the young and getting older
The info-doves are feeling bolder
About that image in your dream.

E-mail me from far a field
About your monthly desktop yield
And documents that have been sealed
With your continental seam.

Clear me off the tele-table
Tie the wires and send a cable
"The infidels have taken Babel."
This counter must be clean!

Drum me up an alibi
About that little picture pie
That always seems to lip and lie
While sending me that scream.

Crown for me an underling
Who has a little info thing
And understands the zero swing
That made my one a team.

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