Climate Change 1
I heard a dead horse
Give account for time spent being flogged
By squawking talking science nuts
And sheeple speaking monkish.
I told the horse to take it like a man
And that I would plan
To expose the horse-assasins
With mental notes of its complaints.
This repetition of fudged facts
Has held back
Of love upon this world.
For control freaks
Have planned this for years
But the dead horse is louder than those flogging
And the smell that the decay emits
And law and violence it permits
Is fishy at best…
But its clear that things aren’t even best.