Telstrated

I hate this deal, you know,
The need to communicate...
Telephones negate my desire to create,
They infiltrate my focused state,
They drill my brain like a shattered plate,
I could not wait!-
For the day I wouldn't need to play the game;
Bluetooth connected to my ball and chain,
Privacy, freedom, down the drain,
I prayed for Telstra to go up in flames!

I'd do the dance of joy as HQ burned
Their bosses cheeks should burn with shame!
CEO's names synonymous with greed
A need unquenchable for financial gain
Because like a whimpering pup we've been de-brained, 
Trained, advertising bullshit is now firmly ingrained.

I don't want to talk to anyone, anymore, if I can't see their face, 
You'd think I'd rid myself of techno-control; purify my mental space
Freedom so close, I can nearly taste - but wait.
Disconnected!? What NOW?
What if someone rings for a job? If the car breaks down I'll be walking
How do I check my likes on the go? Who will remember me if I'm not talking?
I'm in a panic, lost in the world alone; disgruntled if fet-life crazies aren't sleazily stalking
It's quiet.
Too quiet.
I fold. I beg. I pay. 
I'm grateful for today
Just to communicate.
Telstra is f*****g great.