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Ninety nine point nine percent.
Ticking time irrelevent.
Prediction lost, a plastic guess.
Am I sure?
I answered yes...
I've distant hazy salad dreams
of times when five percent was done,
but now the lights are dead dead DEAD.
Oh God please fix the Internet!
I'm ninety nine point nine percent
yet now my torture has begun.
Okay then die,
I won't repent
at ninety nine point nine percent.
Retry retry retry.
Tears and years are humming by
and all the questions end in why.
I'm downloading
downloading
downloading
downloading
down...
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