Do not go gentle into that good night,
Your tweets should burn and rave at close of day;
Outrage, outrage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no retweets they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Google's men, their last Wave by, crying all night
Their frail +1s might have danced in FB's bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who fought and Ryzed the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they Mixered it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rave men, near Friendster, see with blinding sight
Instagram filters like meteors and Pal-Pay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, Bill Gates, there on the sad height,
Cursing Ballmer with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Outrage, outrage against the dying of the light.
