I have to tell you Google, that you are my favorite friend.
For with my every inquiry, I must see what you recommend.
You helped me to stay dense and cheat at French with 10,000 dictionaries
And when I search for terms like “Go Go boots + tapeworms,” you don’t ask me why I’d pair these.
You never question why I want to know how many ninja cats live in my neighborhood
And even if you were capable of passing judgment, I still don’t think you would.
You save my time or kill it dead with crap I wouldn’t otherwise care to see,
but you know me oh-so-well and advertise to my specific brand of A.D.D.
Paris Hylton hates you, because she just can’t rest in shame
And I forgive you about Chris Crocker, for whose success you’re half to blame.
And then there’s Bing, like an ugly teenage girl standing jealously aloft
Never providing any useful information – so typical of Microsoft.
Google, I love you so, but how do you know how many taste buds are on my tongue?
Can people hear me when in a coma? Where exactly is Barcelona? And how would one “Wang Chung?”
I put my faith in you; I’ve forgotten what else to do, and you’re never very far.
Promise me you won’t be evil and someday I’ll let you drive my car.
It only adds to the allure that your mysterious formulas are so closely guarded
And even if I Googled your secret algorithm, you wouldn’t tell me I’m retarded.