It was a space day
The sun was beating on the noders by the side of the road
There was a Snow Crash
A smattering of useful stuff
The nodes in the database were wired to the internet

These are the days of noders loose on everything
This is a big database
The way the lusers all node for numbers,
The way we put them back in place,
The way we look to the noders with more XP
with a certain jealous glimmer in our eye,
These are the days of noders loose on everything
So don't cry, baby, don't cry

It was a dry wind
That swept across the desert,
The wasteland that's the Internet today
This is a bright spot
In a massive sea of entropy,
The noders, and the write-ups, and the falling GPA


It's collections of pop art,
It's an information jump start,
It's every editor throws some heroes on the cool chart.
This database is magical, and magical is art,
It's The Noder in the Bubble
And the novice without heart

These are the days of rampant autonoders,
Rampant autonoders somewhere.
Staccato signals of hard-linked information,
It's a tight association of unix.boys playin' with their toys


With sincere apologies to Paul Simon, and also anyone who actually read this.

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