A Kids Moral Decadence

Now, he is fed up with his rubber pistol, Irrepressibly itching for Hard Metal: To every onlooker crystal clear That Kingsley has drowned his fear Of spraying bullets 360o degrees And blood stains bestowing a black grease. Whom we should reproach I knew all along, For Kingsley’s now roguish eyes and song; For I had his doting daddy warned Against having a bull belatedly dehorned: The folly of over-exposing him to toys That would yield only Satan’s joys: The slim chances of Kingsley’s young mind Rightly guessing that he’s spiritually behind; If it wasn’t some tasty, beefy meat A special mind-blowing chocolatey treat If not, milky juices you won’t find in town Crispy wafers no one can turn down If it wasn’t some eye catching software About under-cover operations revealing a snare; Some costly cell phones for men of title And this GODDAMNED rubber pistol!