and Florida falls into the fucking ocean,
drowning all the old dumb dumbs, Trumpies,
and especially the people who like the weather
in this wasteland that wouldn't exist without
pesticide in the air and air-conditioning.
In the land of mid-sized SUVs,
the blind Aunt is king and Uncle David dies supreme,
so I gotta get the hell outta here,
unable to cope with this dystopia
for much longer before I kill a custodian,
and flee to France, anyways, where I could be
a good looking lucky tramp instead of trapped.
Two razors to go to wish for continuance,
yet too many shopping plazas to take shame
and see my grave next to a Burger King,
where virginities are made only to repeat the cycle,
until Father Nature's open-ended invite mutes the panhandle.