This is dedicated to whomever (“’whom,’ he said, for he had been to night school.”) mentioned existential angst the other day. At first I misread “existential angst” as “existential ants,” and so for you and for all who suffer existential angst and existential ants:
All creepy ants are existential ants If ants across your old blue jeans advance And bite into your tender skin by chance You leap into an existential dance
And swear profane, wild, existential chants Your good companions look at you askance Each with a wondering existential glance They seem to be in an existential trance
As you flail among the flowering plants Because of those wicked existential ants!