I’m a paper card
Selling dreams to you
Because I know them
To be untrue for me.
I’m a plastic card
Or bound papers to you
Without which I would not be me.
What am I to you?
What are you to me?
Faces on a piece of paper,
Just a number in your phone memory.
Special moments are locked up
In your pockets, in your cells.
Everything you want to know
A click soon tells.
Sprockets, widgets and applications
Talk about simplification of communication
But, you never really talk to me.
But, you never really smile at me.
Simpler times,simpler things happened,
Now, just talk clogs the lines.
And songs, they just refuse to rhyme.
Maybe I belong in a simpler time.