He eats only from 600 terahertz bowls to skirt
Transmitters in cartons and plastics
Swapping shoes, swabbing doorjams
And cultivating a queue of nervous ticks
That he sets on aleatory
Mountains out of radula; he has no idea
How we function, after all
He thinks sand can run backward
If we decide or fail to decide
Either way, he keeps unearthing packets
And he is eroding precious coastlines
With his paranoia
Maybe the worst thing we could do
Is to address the problem
Agreed. If nothing were to change
His fellows still would not take him seriously
And our C-Class Conservation Programme
Would maintain net welfare gains so tiny
That no one would take notice
In the Plenary Budget
Let’s go with that, but tell me again
Why we bother with hominids
Serial Outlet 