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Tired of these same old breaks, we seek a new resolve - a rhyming poem. |
| Now the Earth says treat the lights As if it’s doomsday we’re adoring… When the world has all these rights - Populations should be soaring… Get to working, blades of grass - Help the mental struggles deep - Assist armed forces kicking ass - And let the young ones get off cheap… Come to play and hold out some - The awesome, foreign, genius way - Fortunes, headaches, not as dumb - Allowing allies not to stray. So admonished, rush to healing, Manic names, that burly cause - Apparitions truly dealing - Goals begetting kind applause… To serve our own economies; Produce, import some worldly goods - Avoid these fueling ignominies; Drive inflation from the woods. To meat and fish, they add some spices - Serves us meals within shelf’s prime; Many rich and deadly vices - Our leaders there, sufficient crime… |