We have seen the magic bullet Cure all disease. Cows won't go extinct. Lush, green pastures run to the waters' edges. Twisted ankles in gopher holes are passe. Trees are well-placed for shade beneath a relentless sky. The lands are full, plush and crowded With work-a-day leather. Wool is everywhere. The barren creeks are clear of poison. The grunts and runts of the stead Blissfully graze, munching towards our tables. Brown eggs thrive in computerized out buildings. We are idle. No wars, disease or poverty. It is either life or death by choice. We implant, are implanted, removeable, And sustainable as any Victorian. In place of the Immaculate Heart, I hang a picture of my old pet, Sophie, Walking on a balance beam, With a strange black V high in the sky. And with all this, we grow fat.
870 species go extinct each year. That would wipe out everything in 10 000 years.