He holds in his hand a slithering
Wiggling tube of flesh
Standing in the midst of dithering
Hollow men and random robots
Wandering under a blithering
Sun, without much purpose...
Hence the waving of the asp
Coiled striped reptile of death
Squirming in the prophet's grasp
As he calls out the news
Of pain and happiness yet to come
Which are not ours to flee or choose
Until the work of fate is done
Like the earthquake in Japan
Endless war in Afghanistan
The scientific triumph of man
Turns out to be the biggest mistake
Our history a poorly told joke
Belly laughs over the mess we make
Eat and multiply until we choke
Just listen to the man with the snake...
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