When water’s taken Florida
and made some brand new beaches,
Elites will sit upon the hill,
out of extinction’s reaches.
There, out of the flames’ dire reach,
they’ll sit and sip their toddy,
the rich, the richer, criminals,
some illuminati.
Broken armies guard their land,
lest survivors near.
They’ll be killed or sent away,
protecting what’s dear.
Some, who’ve done horrendous deeds
will come for the ride.
Liars, killers, all bad seeds,
circling the pride.
“We the people” now is dead,
like democracy.
In the land of Oligarchy,
everything is free.
