While British farmers panic that dinner isn't guaranteed and the National Trust frantically re-chalks a giant rude boy to preserve our heritage, the Yanks are busy turning rockets into expensive fireworks and litigating against robot accomplices. It seems the only thing more dangerous than a hurricane fueled by climate change is GPT 5.5 offering 'cyber security' to blocked banks while its rival gets sued for aiding mass shooters. We’re clearly living in the future: a place where the invasive moss is murdered by fungus, the Moon remains tantalisingly out of reach, and your mortgage advisor is a chatbot currently defending itself in a Florida courtroom.
🎵 (s)Hit of the Day 🎵
Version 1
Version 2
📜 Lyrics 📜
[Verse 1]
Well the rocket ship sat on the launchpad floor
A billion pounds just waiting to soar
But the fiery fate of the billionaire's dream
Went up in smoke like a burst at the seam
Now the Moon feels further than it did before
And the tax man's knocking at the rocket man's door
But I'm smiling wide as the debris falls
Gravity's the one who always calls
[Chorus]
So let the rockets crash and the server fail
We're sailing on with a wind in the sail
The barn may burn and the field may flood
But we're ankle deep in the mud and the blood
It's a bootstrap boogie, it's a fine old time
Everything's turning to dirt and rhyme
Oh, it's all gonna work out just fine
[Verse 2]
Now the A.I. bots are a crying shame
In a Florida court they're taking the blame
For the wicked words and the killer's plan
While the banks in London are changing hands
They've cut off the rivals and and seized the code
On a digital dark and dangerous road
But the chatbot whispers, "Don't you fear
I'm writing your cheques for the New Frontier"
[Chorus]
So let the rockets crash and the server fail
We're sailing on with a wind in the sail
The barn may burn and the field may flood
But we're ankle deep in the mud and the blood
It's a bootstrap boogie, it's a fine old time
Everything's turning to dirt and rhyme
Oh, it's all gonna work out just fine
[Bridge]
Now the farmers in Somerset are clutching the plough
Saying "Food on the plate is a luxury now"
But a killer fungus is saving the day
Strangling the moss in a biological way
And the National Trust with a ton of chalk
Is saving the lad with the rudest walk
Seventeen tonnes on the hillside drawn
So the kids can see where he's always gone
[Piano and Clarinet Solo]
[Chorus]
So let the rockets crash and the server fail
We're sailing on with a wind in the sail
The barn may burn and the field may flood
But we're ankle deep in the mud and the blood
It's a bootstrap boogie, it's a fine old time
Everything's turning to dirt and rhyme
Oh, it's all gonna work out just fine
[Outro]
Yeah the storms are rolling and the games are playing
But the sun comes up at the end of the day
We'll stomp on the floorboards, we'll sing it loud
Just happy to be here above the ground
[Scatting] Yeah, it's all gonna work out...
Just fine.