Biden is planning upheaval/of policies now medieval/Electric jalopies/and fields of wild poppies/granting the earth a reprieval.
What do you call some large bowls/of curious deadly black holes?/Such groupings, or worse/in our universe/could maybe be called 'fumaroles.'
Dead soldiers don't care if a stone/carries their name all alone/They've gone to a place/where creed or their race/have long since been all overthrown.
You have the right to record/police action single or horde/When done with your cell/like a bat out of hell/run, though it's all aboveboard.
If you are an outdoors-type Brit/you'll find bathrooms still closed a bit/If you need to go/just bring your own hoe/to compost that nice pile of . . .
Bring in the robots to feed/millions who fresh produce need/Old Farmer Brown/can just sit around/and push buttons to plant his seed.
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