Caveman

verse

I saw him in a corner booth

Debugging with a plastic spoon

No voice mode in his tired ear

No agent swarm was drawing near

Just one prompt and Notepad Lite

A console window, black as night

He copied code with sacred care

Then whispered, "Run," into the air

chorus

He's vibe coding like a ghost

With burnt espresso and dry toast

No Codex choir, no Claude parade

No thinking loop, no plans were made

Just chat jee pee tee and nervous eyes

A blinking cursor, no disguise

The whole café began to fear

The future of the engineer

verse

A start up bro across the room

Had five AIs inside one Zoom

His agents planned, his agents built

His agents wore emotional guilt

Our guy just squinted at the screen

Like, "What does this exception mean?"

Then saved the file as final-new

Inside a folder called "redo"

chorus

He's vibe coding like it's DOS

With zero tools and maximum sauce

No multi-agent mastermind

Just "fix this bug" and "nevermind"

He pastes the answer line by line

Then prays to Python's holy sign

The laptop fan begins to scream

This is not work, this is a dream

verse

At lunch he tried to ship a patch

By naming files "real-final-match"

He ran the script from folder three

Then blamed the path recursively

A barista watched with haunted grace

As logs exploded in his face

He smiled and typed, "one more attempt"

Like every crash was heaven-sent

chorus

He's vibe coding, raw and pure

A cyber goblin, insecure

No fancy flow, no model stack

Just copy-paste and coffee black

The tests all failed, he said, "That's fine"

"Production has a looser spine"

The whole café could only stare

At one man's war with middleware

bridge

No dashboard lit, no task tree grew

No diagrams, no review queue

No whisper prompt, no rubber duck

Just vibes, caffeine, and cosmic luck

He looked so calm, he looked so cursed

Like modern tooling in reverse

A legend born beneath the foam

Still pushing straight to localhost

pre-chorus

And when the screen went silent blue

He knew exactly what to do

He opened up a brand-new chat

And pasted all the errors flat

He wrote, "bro please," then hit return

And watched the little tokens burn

The café held its breath again

For our Notepad backend man

verse, outro

I saw him in a corner booth

Debugging with a plastic spoon

No voice mode in his tired ear

No agent swarm was drawing near

Just one prompt and Notepad Lite

A console window, black as night

He copied code with sacred care

Then whispered, "Run," into the air