Human 2.0

I plan a reverse commute
and fiddle sweet tunes to a mute
[awkward silence]
tasteless, I know 
lacking in pepper and salt
like liquor without malt
like Washington DC, it's not my fault

Massively dynamic, I buzz buzz through the chapters of Sun Tzu like a saw
in awe,
never daring to doubt 
I carry an imposing clout that gods atop mount olympus admire
I inspire, nothing.

Back in '84, I was born with the DNA of the proletariat 
nowadays I rest my head at the Marriott,
and order Peter Luger prime steak
tasteful, I make reservations at the corner booth,
leave space for my sweet tooth,
and sip on Vermouth.

Like a calculator compounds masses of data points, 
I'm buried under an avalanche of white noise,
at GPS coordinates 6584.87.7463.