I can remember those days long gone
When our phones were actually a treat
We would talk with our sweethearts and mothers
Call Wimpy’s for something to eat
Our landlines are now like swarms of mosquitoes
High noon they’re all over the place
I swat one pest and twelve more fly in
Total disdain for our space
These phones calls remind me of Mongol hordes
Charging their steeds through the village
Snatching up my wife and myself
Seeking out victims to pillage
Our phones are as bad as a plague of locusts
Gobbling up all that’s in sight
Their noise drowns out all the real sounds
And turns our house into a blight
My similes — forgive me — I’m out of control
Locusts and Mongols, it can’t be that bad
Though what’s more annoying than robocalls?
I call-blocked my mother, so sad 
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