By Bruce Stengl
We must, we must, we must
We must flatten the curve.
It’ll be better, better, better
So much better if we don’t swerve—
Into the Apocalypso faster,
That would be a global disaster.
There, can you see it, feel it?
There, on the ocean breeze?
Catch it, hold it, embrace it.
It’s a brand new disease!
Borne in open markets,
Exotic animals stacked in cages,
Freshly cut meats arrayed on tables.
Feces, urine—all the rages!
“Social distance,”
Watchwords of the day.
Six feet it is—
To avoid the spray.
So slow down, slow down, slow down
Don’t be a global disgrace.
Wash your hands—
And don’t touch your face!
And hoarding TP?
How completely un-PC.
So, while you’re wiping the crap from your ass?
You forgot the shit-eating grin on your face.
Gun sales have spiked,
Ammo’s disappearing,
The populace is psyched,
End Times are nearing.
Don’t rush, don’t push, don’t crush
Everyone form a line.
The President has promised a test.
“So beautiful, it’s sublime.”
So really, truly, stay at home,
Don’t go out, do not roam,
Do not run, don’t be so quick!
Please, don’t be an Apocal-dick.
