Gods sick threw up all over the floor
The odds slick slidin towards war
A ***** an skin splits with black tar
Tin soldiers march after a dark star
We molder under a tyrants charge
Flickering compliance on the verge
Without defiance suffer the purge
Silent laughter after every surge

A tyrant who defies sense and science
Irate eyes die and fry in noncompliance
Half a brains alliance with petulance
Ants who think themselves giants
A gross death squashed by pseudoscience
Until the breath stills they rave and rant
Many a contrivance for the easily pliant
Really dyin because of words on an appliance