As the yellowing paper, of old,
Has begun to crumble and fold,
The withered alpha and theta
Have flown off as lost data.
The Processor says “No more”,
“Mercy on me, I can do only so many chores”,
The screen blanks, black, then blue,
The HD purring wildly too.
Ah, the light! It comes bright and white,
A shining beacon of hope at 12 in the night.
But alas! It was not to be.
Now, do what you will, that data you will not see.