Revolting revolution for a pretty ball in space
Lacking hands and nails with which to scratch its itchy face
The shifting into day and the shifting into night
Like a torturous machine built with sinister delight.
And only to the heavens never ever one to know
There's nothing to report as far as living planets go
But on this tiny sphere made of water, gas, and dust
With warmth provided free by a star it's forced to trust
It's bitten by a parasite perfect-played by us,
With every single effort shown cruel remorselessness.
Never could it spin so fast enough to shake its fleas,
It's fighting back with all its might completely void of ease.
There's only one choice left to it before it will be through,
Waiting for a plague to come and do away with you.
So in the meantime laugh, play, and have your cake,
An end so sharp will break through you just like a wooden stake.
For vampires and leech alike virus, pests, and scum,
You must be feeling numb. Your days are done. The war is won.
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