Ask someone clever, a person you trust,
what the country will do when the fossils go bust.
What's that by his ear? A flick of a tail?
"I really don't think that our fuel's gonna fail."
Isn't that brain dust I see by his shoe?
"The market will save us the way that they do."
I hear something chewing. "Our history's laced
with the fact that technology's always replaced."
His answers seen tenuous, nebulous, vague,
as we've come to expect in the brain-borer plague.