Every illness has its symptoms;
Each sickness has its type
While some plagues may be fatal,
A runny nose sure makes me gripe
The doctors urge vaccinations
For all the deadly ailments
The other germs may bother you
Or cause you brief torments
This throe if and when you catch it,
No doctor can make you well
Your eyes get ruined and then your neck,
Your head and hands both swell
And it\'s easy to master,
But men want to be slaves
To their habits and their passions
Yes, they go down to their graves
With heads all bent, their eyes all squint
And kinks throughout their neck
From pounding letters, numbers,
Yes, their fingers are a wreck
There must now be some billions
With this dreaded disease
And all of you could be healthy
So listen to me, please!
Put down your cell, lift up your head,
And see life\'s greatest wonders
Look at the crowd (not at your phone) ,
Hear the swift stream (not the music) ,
Enjoy the rolling thunders
The next will be the hardest
And now I\'m talkin\' tough
Talk to all people face to face
And eye to eye\'s enough
Sir Apple will still have his place,
So don\'t think I\'m a weirdo
Remember it\'s the people you embrace;
Talk to them and get near, Joe!
A programmed phone may call you
And recite some chatter senseless
But ‘one on one\' takes walls down
And friends will make you fenceless
For other folks to reach you,
And to relate and talk and chatter
Talk with and look at them face to face
Cause those things really matter
If that life is too ‘human\',
And you think I\'m full of crock
Then make a wish to leave this life
And come back as a rock.
c aaron