Spewed gray you watch is dread pollution.
Hell! Can't go
Out into this wasted world.
It smells like Satan's institution:
Hell. Can't go
Out into this flaming world.
Bummed! The news talks about destruction
And the fires that cannot be put out.
Where'd sun go? It looks like day for night,
For night, for night.

To bathe there is no real ablution--
Wells, you know,
Are seccer than our sachem's plans.
The coughers [sic] facing destitution,
Gelt they blow--
These screwups have few fans.
We ain't got no money:
Do these people legislate?
All they do's sit in their chambers and masturbate.
Where'd sun go? The soot gives day no light,
No light, no light.

[hack, cough, hack, cough. . . .]

The place to be is Aleutian,
Gelled and froze,
Where the landscapes are not dead.
I'd relish such a substitution,
Gelled and froze
Where morn, eve skies are blue, not red.
I'm gettin' an airway constriction, 'cause air's damn foul
I ain't gonna make salubriousness sans face cowl.

Don't you know it's gonna be all blight,
All blight, all blight. . . .