| Mercury makes its way into
|
| The skin of little fishes who
|
| Swim across the vast and murky
|
| Mucky, mud terrain
|
| They make their way onto the dishes
|
| Of men who gobble little fishes
|
| As the mercury settles in
|
| Their soft and supple brains
|
| Gone are the days
|
| Gone are the days
|
| When you can stick your toes in without a second thought
|
| Gone are the days
|
| When you can get your mind wet without the fear of rot
|
| Where did the Pillsbury Doughboy go wrong?
|
| When did the blingy little weasels kill the protest song?
|
| When will the youth get on its hind legs?
|
| Is the Golden Goose laying 3D printed eggs?
|
| When will the Easter Bunny come
|
| And hop it all away?
|
| Gone are the days
|
| Gone are the days
|
| When you didn’t need WiFi to help you find someone to kiss
|
| Gone are the days
|
| When your brand of genitalia would determine where to piss
|
| Mr. Owl, he cheats to reach the center of the pop
|
| Scarecrow, better hold your breath while Roundup’s being doused upon your crops
|
| When will the youth get on its hind legs?
|
| Is the Golden Goose still laying 3D printed eggs?
|
| When will Ben Kenobi come
|
| And saber it away?
|
| Mercury makes its way into
|
| The skin of little fishes who
|
| Swim across the vast and murky
|
| Mucky, mud terrain
|
| They make their way onto the dishes
|
| Of men who gobble little fishes
|
| As the mercury settles in
|
| Their soft and supple brains
|
| Mercury makes its way into
|
| The skin of little fishes who |