For some reason this reminds me of the poem An Irish Airman Foresees his Death en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/An_Irish_
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As legionaries of code parade through streets as conquerors of silicon, waving atop ornamented $400k TC chariots, the crowds push me into the open sewer I tend. Picking up my rake, continuing to clear the horse's manure, dragging it through the trough of despair. Is this Hell?
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