Ping? Pong!  on my screen,  it's sweet music for me.
I'm connecting to the undernet, you know, IRC.
Hundreds of channels, ufos, sex, casual chat, prayer,
If it's out there, chances are it's probably on here.

I'm not into freak, drugs, hacking, warez or Mp3.
No jive or prayers for me baby.
Cruising for friends, hopefully somebody nice.
Preferably a chick, to chat with me.

So I'm lurking in #USA, bored as heck, reading the usual 
disjointed, stupid and occasionally funny crap.
When I saw it, bold red, hello! what the hell have we got?
Lonely female, 18, nice guys only, message or dcc me for chat.

I got off a quick MSG, no time for a DCC.
Nice guy here, what's up lonely?
She responded with a cute smile and an ASL query.
Hesitated a second, twenty two, male, New York City.

That's how it started,  slowly ,  eventually we started to flow.
Two hours later, she broke it up with a sorry dear, got to go.
I was bummed, but we promised to write, then traded email addy.
Ping? Pong!, it's IRC, something cool, just happened to me.

It's been six weeks, how many hours?  I have no clue, really.
We've been writing, chatting and trading e-cards almost daily.
It's wonderful and crazy, up  all night, burning all of my free time.
Can't help it though,  they're addictive, always on my mind.

Ping? Pong!, it pops up, it's sweet music for me.
I'm connecting to  the undernet, you know, IRC.
She's not here yet, so I'm lurking, bored as hell, just trying to get by.
Waiting for that little note from my spy, umm, my Mirc notify.

Ping? Pong! It's no mystery.
One or both has some kinda freakin hold on me.
Ping? Pong! it goes. 
 My system dutifully responds.
Welcome to IRC