We're lookout mountains, and we're the lookouts

We're leafcutter ants in South America,
carrying our lives;
rows of us marching through universities,
factories, offices, jails,
toiling;

tools raised,
fools spaced,
a total waste,
belts round the waist,
bells tolling for whom
while war utensils boom
and death does zoom
into a very detailed devastation
for those opposing cooperation

This land is a duckwalk deva state,
when it's not too early, it is too late

The humanitarian situation is getting tough,
as the Kremlin Bad Wolf doth huff and puff

He's no longer fit for sexual intercourse;
instead he fucks a whole nation with military force

May someone fill his cup with novitjok;
make his muscles and tendons roll and rock;
make his Miss Piggy eyes pop out of his face,
then bury his obituary in amnesia's haze

But I'm like everybody else,
surprised at being here,
but since I am
I crave comfort, enjoyment,
and equal rights,
or even very special rights,
want the day to be sweet and creative,
and all change to be for the better;
that's only reasonable, only fair,

and I want my hate black and shiny
and impenetrable