Climate Change

The charts and graphs of doom are steep. Our worries pile up in a heap - Into our brains it starts to seep - Indeed, we are in trouble deep. Will he move fast or slowly creep, As he, at bay, we hope to keep, Yet, knowing he will grimly reap? There will be no one left to weep. No sir, you will not hear a peep. The lucky ones die in their sleep. Epilogue Then God will gather up his sheep. They’ll need to carpool in a jeep, In a traffic jam: beep beep beep beep!