The world is warming and people fear
the end is closing in each year.
Hear the march of a trillion souls,
see the turn of ten billion whorls,
inhale the air but not too deep
without a mask the climb is steep.
Let your children out to play
inside the bubble while you pray,
“Keep the Satanists away;
Keep us safe another day.”
Plug the socket in your car
meant for cigarette and stale cigar
with Gameboys, iPods, warming tea
while chugging sulphur out to sea.
Aim your hood toward the West,
spend your nights on a Beautyrest.
Fill your tank up to the brim
without a spill, the price is grim.
Remember, boys play in the sands
until they die in foreign lands.
What’s that? we sing that Christ is born
someplace calm on Christmas morn?
A little town called Bethlehem
shed luster like a silver gem,
gave us hope of man’s good will
two thousand years ago but still
we stare right through the tearing walls
to search for light in corner malls.
It’s not the time to find a star
when we can’t even start our car.