Our bees aren't social distancing,
As they buzz about the hive;
The ants aren't wearing masks
In their pismires, yet they thrive.
Racoons wash without soap,
Llamas spit without remorse,
Monkeys' feces fill the air,
Dogs are crapping everywhere,
The watering holes of the Kalahari
Have larger crowds
Than political rallies.
Every insect, bird and beast,
With scale or feather, beak or teeth,
With legs or wings, bellies or fins,
Still swim or fly, walk or crawl;
We succumbed before them all.
It's back to Eden,
Back to the fall.
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC
Our bees aren't social distancing,
As they buzz about the hive;
The ants aren't wearing masks
In their pismires, yet they thrive.
Racoons wash without soap,
Llamas spit without remorse,
Monkeys' feces fill the air,
Dogs are crapping everywhere,
The watering holes of the Kalahari
Have larger crowds
Than political rallies.
Every insect, bird and beast,
With scale or feather, beak or teeth,
With legs or wings, bellies or fins,
Still swim or fly, walk or crawl;
We succumbed before them all.
It's back to Eden,
Back to the fall.
