Nothing Is Wrong

Unpredictable is the predictable crowd It might as a flash-mob sing as one or as one throng it will cheer Nothing is wrong the herd is happy but then again most predictable are the horde it may be bored it may be ever so mildly irritated by a passing cloud Unrest prods the mass and press One may infect the many a parasitic worm awakes in the collective mind in the multiheaded monster The worm is rampant it is insane It will kill at will it will scream and run tear down a village a town or a city The worm devours reason a blood-lust reddens every eye The once human becomes a killing machine suddenly the mob subsides sleeps and snores the terror trickles away One day it comes to its senses and makes a new law It seeks out just one person just one or two It will most righteously lynch that one person or two The crowd will burst out once more as one it will burst into an inspiring song and much uplifting merry cheer Once again predictably happy is the herd as it sings along Nothing is wrong