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A WORLD WHEREIN WOLVES HAVE BREASTS                           page 1

If only I could tell you to where it is headed
But, my son, the concept is foreign to my mind
Were I able to I would forecast a future where nothing is dreaded
And the kind of world I will leave behind

But I really don’t have a f*cking clue
I mean right now this country gulps down gasoline the way I pour vodka into my already diseased liver
To the max, man
And today I heard a professional something or other predict that pretty soon this world  will not only contend with an energy crisis
But it will soon to be warring between towns, cities and countries
Not only for oil
But for water
You know, like that overpriced liquid fraud from France fools drink because they think it comes from some secluded spot off the Seine 
Well, they’re all insane
As is the price this planet will one day pay
And it’s all yours, my son
Yours and everyone
You and all the people who better start doing some rational thinking
Because, as far as I can tell, this country, like it’s economy, is headed for hell while it’s sinking
And sinking fast hour by hour
Unless there is some intervention by the higher power
an intervention for sleep and sheep 
And speaking of sheep
Beware the shark in sheep’s clothing
The Trojan House
And the transvestite wolf walking around in grandma’s over-sized panties and firm control bra
“My Grandma, what big breasts you have”                                                                                           Page 2
It’s all part of the neurotic
Moronic
Frenetic
Kinetic
Cosmic
Catastrophic
Chaotic
Manic
And panic stricken globe we were gifted with
the one that now stands in jeopardy of too many maladies, not enough cures, 
and a persistent rash under the armpit of Atlas
While people in Iran pay a sixth of what we pay for the gallons of gasoline that Americans abuse with greed and a gargantuan disregard for the future
That is, until another fuel burning behemoth that flies the un-friendly skies finds another skyscraper that points the way to heaven
And falls all to hell
Because of Muslim morons who want to be martyrs
It’s the almighty Allah vs. the almighty Dollah 

So, my son, please don’t ask me what to do
Answers are the one thing I am fresh out of
It shatters me to think of the world I’ll leave to you
But oh, how I wish it were a world quilted by love
    © 2012…copyright PHREEPOETREE…~free cee!~
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