Four Minute Warning

Four minute warning they said At the height of the Cold War Just exactly four minutes Not a split second more. Four minutes warning of Nuclear missiles on track. Enough time apparently For us to fire back. Having got the message What would we to do next, Grab our loving partners And indulge in wild wild sex, Then, if it was a false alarm The panic of weeks or more Hoping against hope our Personal birth rate didn’t soar? Have that final little ciggie Because prospects look bleak Ignoring the hard earned fact You’d just been stopped week? Let the rising tension Push you over the edge And take a final Scotch In spite of taking the pledge? And then the powers decided Four minutes was too long. The common herd would Just use the time all wrong. They’d just puff and panic Scream, cry, and shirk Instead of just stoically Carrying on with their work. All the lost productivity All the pain and terror Just because that button Was maybe pushed in error. There’s not even a minute now They can’t be bothered to try The worthy will be in shelters And the peasantry will just die. It’s called Survival Of The Fittest It’s nothing to do with being healthy, It’s just one of the many privileges Of being ludicrously stinking wealthy.