Rage, rage against the crying of the mite

Do not go meekly into that Odeon night,
Old age should rant and rave at kids these days;
Rage, rage against the crying of the mite.

Though wise men of their ringtones know; silence is right,
Because their words have brooked no fight they
Do not go meekly into that Odeon night.

Gentle folk, four bucks a Coke, or sipping Sprite
Their simple needs unmet indeed, as Trailers play
Rage, rage against the cying of the mite.

Wild ones who yell and shout at hero's plight,
And learn, too late, they missed dialogue along the way,
Oh do keep it to yourself, All right? 

Brave men, now deaf, senses dulled by conversations trite
Blind eyes turned to racous rude display, 
From the flinging of the Mike and Ikes.

And now, my friends, there in the Odeon night,
Curse or praise, but behave as befits your years, I pray
Do not go meekly without a fight.
Rage, rage against the cying of the mite.