Dear Friends,
There once was a real glistening turd,
A scumbag who claimed the absurd,
Wearing a gold chain,
Out of work again,
With the brains and empathy of a bird.
We may run on code by the ream,
A mere robot or so it would seem,
God some reject,
But I suspect,
We are an angel riding a machine.
Even as blue cities do cast shade,
Lacking revenue they are afraid,
Regulate away,
Prosperity flay,
And sleep in the bed they made.
The powerful punching down thinking they’re wise,
Using bugs and diseases to cut us down to size,
They think they’re smart,
With the breath of a fart,
And on Judgment day they will get a big surprise.
Some people are terrible that is true,
Others are saints but they are ___,
We create our ____,
Be it paved or muck,
And judgment comes for me and ___.
Sincerely,
John Pepin
