TV dinners

 All these lives

That live in the screen

Where are they now?

 Whose fortress so keen

Does hold them and hold them

Or give them a scene

Oh the angels of darkness

With their night vision so keen

All of these actresses

So fortunate and dumb

Whose strong stage appearances

Have rendered us dumb

The lives of the livid

Are bubbling beneath

But whose lives

So softly

Like a lamb's heart do beat

Where are the Voikador's

Or the Roman's of Crumb?

I love not

The Wicked whores

Or the agents of hum

I long for the days of yore

When the basketball thumbed

And the joystick

Of Amigas

On Road Rages hummed

Oh this was my feel good

Off licenses joy

To hold onto