Oh! this chilly aircon; with a chill of Heineken beer froth,
then why does it feel so gushing, why does it feel so hot?
Is it time already to architect, is it the time to plot?
no more the feeling of being lost; no more being all rot
no more it is about our past; the battles that we fought
it’s time to do that binary search; work on that bubble sort
because someone once made me ask myself,”Next is fucking what?”