Minimalist Drag

The smoke that flows when plants explode and the nuclear tide rolls through

the sad dismay that hits today as the fish turn black and blue

the woman who stare the men who dare know that there’s nothing to do

about the life we lead and the endless greed in the land of the rich, who are few.

The love that turns to shredding BOT without a care for age

is what we watch on the tube in the time of quiet rage.

The bombs that drop from miles above, so our flyboys are safe from the cage

are replaced by drones that are flown back home, it signals the final stage.

fuck the jerks who spread A.I. and who honestly know it can win

Arnold’s terminator was a bad joke but now it’s a sure as a sin.

And sin we do in the age of unrest when the poor are cleaned off in the din

we grab the last can of Pringles, head south to a beach to drink gin

because the last of what was so recently dear is gone: such a terrible toll

as sure as Cowell and MTV put an end to anti-establishment rock and roll.

so hug your girl and go for a whirl and make these days the best on the knoll

because just as sure as math has numbers, it’s gonna be a massive toll.

If the US and China start a duel of petty disputes in the sea

then it could spread (watch out Iran) and the money men will all soon flee

to New Zealand or some other nook like a pole or some place where it’s easy to pee

And the whip will come down, thanks Jagger and RIchards, in the last hours of being free.

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