Full of tatts with bright blue hair,
Yet you glare at the world with a malcontent stare.
Not getting the approval on which you thrive?
Then you’ll kick your leftism into overdrive.
You’ll push the garbage in which you no longer believe,
Because it’s easier than to admit to you’re deceived.
You’d rather the truth be poured down the drain
Than entertain it in your degenerate brain.
You cheer with glee at the death of Kirk,
Because being morally upright is just so much work.
You claim to be full of compassion and care,
While the cry of the innocent is given your death stare.
One day, you’ll be alone with your cats,
And the faded glories of your tatts.
And nobody will remember you or celebrate your life,
Nor all your causes for which you agitated strife.
And on another day when you are carried to your fate,
To meet the Lord God on a predestined date,
What will you say in your defence,
On what social ‘injustices’ will you still rage hence?
And for you, the hateful, the tolling of the bell,
Will be the last thing you hear; e’re you are cast into Hell.
