It’s too cold in the winter
but too hot in summer’s sun.
The forest’s turned to tinder
and the ocean’s almost done.
There’s genocide on foreign sands
and planes fall from the sky.
Somewhere a general claps his hands
and drones make people die.
I’m quite low on the ladder
but I’m not the bottom rung.
Some say that life gets sadder.
I reply, "Just bite your tongue."
The banks are leeching money
from the poor and dispossessed.
The prisons fill, no need to kill,
wear hoods and be our guest.
The polar ice caps melt away
and flood tides surely loom.
But politicians scoff and say
that talk’s just gloom and doom.
I’m quite low on the ladder
but I’m not the bottom rung.
Some say life will get madder.
I reply, "Just bite your tongue."