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My TV stands on a table

A writing desk it was

Underneath I see those cables

 Which are a tangled mass

They stick out of the window

They run all around

They run haywire to places

Some anchored underground.

The world lies in this tangled mass

The wires twirl all day

The world spritely bounces on them

In a happy lay

This network is a trapeze

We the circus folks galore

We bounce with the world all up and down

And down and up we go.

We feel a thrill down our spine

And vigorously we jump

Higher up we try to bounce

Till we get the final bump

When we shoot straight upwards

We are loathe to descend

The astral world is wireless!

What bliss we comprehend.

The living folks who sorrow

They do not know the fun

They waste time, shedding tears

Shedding tears for their beloved one.