Waste Management

They demand our all Amputees can crawl When we see the countdown proper It will be too late Smokestack profit sprawl Planned malicious thrall Sent away for antidote I Stumble through the forest tawny Dropping breadcrumbs to the alter Of inorganity Irony may be destroying Our culture but it’s the only Hammer we have so swing away At our friends trapped in the TV Screaming softly o’er the snoring Forcible entry