Give me my phone in a shiny box,
  I don’t care from where it came.
Merely some chips and a power cord,
  to continue my favorite game.

Like a packaged hot dog in the store,
  I don’t want to know how it’s made.
Serve it up fresh, at a good price,
  and cocoon it in leather suede.

I need more gold and lithium,
  the stuff I have no longer works.
Two tons of ore, an acid bath;
  no time for poison that lurks.

Don’t dig here, not in my backyard,
  keep that dreary work far away.
No piles of earth to ruin the view
  or trucks spooking deer all day.

Get me more data, make it cheap,
  no worries for fuel it consumes.
Load it quick—I don’t like to wait—
  who cares if the place lies in ruins?

Spare me the talk on how this is bad,
  how I really should care more.
Just keep this thing glowing in my hand,
  as I shop the digital store.

Give me my phone in a shiny box,
  ignore the online exhaust.
My wee bit of cadmium set in lead,
  whatever the outsourced cost.