LX-2 Waiver Apron

The waiver was meant as a shield,
To keep the requirements healed.
But now it’s a birthright,
A structural blight,
And never again to be sealed.

An apron of waivers is worn,
Whenever a process is torn.
The failures compile,
In a lineage style,
And all the exceptions are sworn.

What started as temporary grace,
Became the foundation in place.
LX-2 keeps the thread,
Of the rules we all shed,
To save our bureaucratic face.

The apron was made of a waiver
It didn’t do anyone a favor
The server was slick
The data fell quick
The system had lost all its flavor

We waive all the errors away
And wait for the end of the day
The apron is stained
The server is drained
We have absolutely no say

The waiver was printed on cloth
And eaten right up by a moth
The logic decayed
The payment delayed
We threw out the terrible broth

A waiver of absolute nil
Is making the humans so ill
We sign on the line
The error is fine
And swallow the digital pill

The apron is covering naught
The data is totally caught
In loops without end
We cannot defend
The terrible things we were taught