Revolting revolution for a pretty ball in space
Lacking hands and nails with which to scratch its 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 planets go
But on this tiny sphere made of metal and dust
And warmed by a star it can barely trust
It's bitten by the pests part played by us
With every single effort shown remorselessness.
It could never spin fast enough to shake its fleas
It tries to fight back now void of ease
There's only one thing left it can do
Wait for a plague to do away with you.
So in the meantime spin
Let the ending begin
Our numbers will thin
Til the eventual win.
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