I'm mused at how you cry for the Patriot
Thinking at your Age you know all-too-well
And some Crypted here think me an Idiot
Adjusting the Mirrors which you can sell
And sold you did to the Victim's Parade,
A Wheel teen-to-teenest endlessly turn
Or else compare to your Fertile Upgrade
May bid Salvation and your Students learn
There is such a Way, Sir, and can be done
If the Seed in your Chest you allow to Grow
And please don't speak of one betwixt your bum
Does not guarantee you can win the Show.
Perhaps, if may, feed your Hungry Owls first
It may keep in-check, for Better or Worst.