Natural Selection

Hail the swaying stalks Bowed so fiercely to razor breeze Watch that young one stand See the will-o-wisp rise! From clover fields of hay An idea, a spark There is no fear There is no pain The bullwhip snaps Goes the gust of wind, alas. He hasn't worked out quite enough Ketchup dripping from stomata Drops pitter patter On the filthy concrete floor We'll never know what lies in store Farmer John came out today To make himself five bales of hay Trips up over corpses, though They haven't really died, you know. Behold the flies! Hear them sweat Braced against the widow's web Tension rises Length extends Race against the Persian sands The bed frame creaks It longs to speak The eyes are here They're everywhere In our first meeting place We copulate on sandy waters The hope of born man Hope only to birth again The sun so high Burns alone in the sky The battlefield is crimson No demon spawn would yield Still the monster altercates Bearing brethren's shields Behold the men! Feel them sweat Working on Egyptian spreads Minds discover Fists defend Unconscious of what life intends Creepy-crawling This cold bitter morning The fittest will survive And the strongest do move on But stop the press! For from this test What lion-bird will spawn? Mistah Kurtz - he gone crazy Two pennies for my baby?