Vernacular of the Day Yeti

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[INTRO]

In my recent erudite
Magnum Oh Puss,
Entitled ‘Letter to my Favourite Saint’
 
Who, due to confidential statutes,
Is a lass I’m not at liberty to name.
 
[CHORUS]
Her follicular beauty’s historical,
As she frowns at my humour hysterical;
 
Full of kindness, compassion, and love for all,
She has worked so many divine miracles.
 
Ending suffering of loved ones’ painful pangs,
By freeing them from gallows’ humourless hang.
 
I call her a Day Yeti, not a monster,
But a superb visionary spirit, sirs.
 
Her ethos, always so supremely noble,
Is to make world a place where all are able
 
To communicate always optimally,
With global vernacular economy.
 
So wrongs can be righted with minimal fuss,
But please don’t ask me how! I’m a blunderbuss!
 
[VERSE 1]
As the world disintegrates before our eyes,
With hissy-fits spectacular from al lies;
 
As smokescreens intended to let genocides
Continue regardless of the loss of life.
 
So that death rates exponentially rise,
In a new dawn born that signals man’s demise.
 
No longer bronze keys’ objective ascent of
Decency, man—but Neanderthal’s unloved.
 
Race to the bottom of the cesspit inhuman,
End of days of displayed forays in Wu Han.
 
Where the blooming, grooming, ill-looming nasty
Depopulate—sending to Heaven’s Gate harshly.
 
Many human beings way before their time,
By globally committing poisoning crimes;
 
Screwing up the world with hay-eyed discussed guys,
Fork-tongued delivering frozen speeches disguised.
 
[CHORUS]
(Repeat)
 
[VERSE 2]
So when then will Ukraine, Iran, Gaza and all—
Visceral, serial killer funereal—
Famines, conflicts, genocides of marchant
Cease to exist? And too the leaders’ war rants?
 
The answers can’t be left to blow in the wind,
’Cause that vacuous, nebulous kind of mind-
 
Set, beset with empty-headed sophistry,
Stained carbuncles on our recent history.
 
That don’t help anyone, but serve to hinder,
As they’re as useless as Prince Charming’s cinders
 
Attending La Dama de Blanco’s
Blanca Ball at the Casa Blanca.
 
What we need’s a more accurate feed,
To save world’s economy at speed.
 
So all must now at great speed simply
Join, donate, and sponsor Seed Hay Eye.
 
[BRIDGE]
For what good is letting them sit alone,
Incarcerated in now Iran’s jails?
 
Vile abuse of being whipped to the bone,
Neglected by being starved till life’s fail.
 
With lack of medical interventions,
Iranian regime’s bad intentions.
 
World media needs desperately
Make amends to news broadcasts instantly.
 
So as to seek to put a stop to all
Deadly global slaughters by Devil’s sole
 
Eternal, mortal, uncalled-for carnage,
Of excessive collateral damage.
 
Where millions are condemned to die for
What raison d'être, sir? None! I’ll bet’cha!
 
[CHORUS]
(Repeat)
 
[OUTRO][Vocal Solo, Trembling] 
It’s thus the beginning
Of the end of our world,
Of all our babies, grans,
Men, women, boys and girls.
 
Serious series of eerie errors’ era
Has begun—whatever beliefs you hold dearer.
 
No one ever deserves
To be killed like a dog,
Their corpse hanging freely from a tree under God’s
 
Eyes—as if His son, so despised, thus crucified;
For they, like He, were all innocent when alive.
 
Can’t be accused of being guilty when they’re dead,
So hire Jee See need to
‘Knock slaughter on the head’
 
Immediately, as
Morgues, overfed,
Mean mountains of corpses pile high, easily bled.
 
Is this to be the leg-ahh-see surrounding me?
One of failing our brothers and sisters truly?

3464/7500

[INTRO] In my recent erudite Magnum Oh Puss, Entitled ‘Letter to my Favourite Saint’ Who, due to confidential statutes, Is a lass I’m not at liberty to name. [CHORUS] Her follicular beauty’s historical, As she frowns at my humour hysterical; Full of kindness, compassion, and love for all, She has worked so many divine miracles. Ending suffering of loved ones’ painful pangs, By freeing them from gallows’ humourless hang. I call her a Day Yeti, not a monster, But a superb visionary spirit, sirs. Her ethos, always so supremely noble, Is to make world a place where all are able To communicate always optimally, With global vernacular economy. So wrongs can be righted with minimal fuss, But please don’t ask me how! I’m a blunderbuss! [VERSE 1] As the world disintegrates before our eyes, With hissy-fits spectacular from al lies; As smokescreens intended to let genocides Continue regardless of the loss of life. So that death rates exponentially rise, In a new dawn born that signals man’s demise. No longer bronze keys’ objective ascent of Decency, man—but Neanderthal’s unloved. Race to the bottom of the cesspit inhuman, End of days of displayed forays in Wu Han. Where the blooming, grooming, ill-looming nasty Depopulate—sending to Heaven’s Gate harshly. Many human beings way before their time, By globally committing poisoning crimes; Screwing up the world with hay-eyed discussed guys, Fork-tongued delivering frozen speeches disguised. [CHORUS] (Repeat) [VERSE 2] So when then will Ukraine, Iran, Gaza and all— Visceral, serial killer funereal— Famines, conflicts, genocides of marchant Cease to exist? And too the leaders’ war rants? The answers can’t be left to blow in the wind, ’Cause that vacuous, nebulous kind of mind- Set, beset with empty-headed sophistry, Stained carbuncles on our recent history. That don’t help anyone, but serve to hinder, As they’re as useless as Prince Charming’s cinders Attending La Dama de Blanco’s Blanca Ball at the Casa Blanca. What we need’s a more accurate feed, To save world’s economy at speed. So all must now at great speed simply Join, donate, and sponsor Seed Hay Eye. [BRIDGE] For what good is letting them sit alone, Incarcerated in now Iran’s jails? Vile abuse of being whipped to the bone, Neglected by being starved till life’s fail. With lack of medical interventions, Iranian regime’s bad intentions. World media needs desperately Make amends to news broadcasts instantly. So as to seek to put a stop to all Deadly global slaughters by Devil’s sole Eternal, mortal, uncalled-for carnage, Of excessive collateral damage. Where millions are condemned to die for What raison d'être, sir? None! I’ll bet’cha! [CHORUS] (Repeat) [OUTRO][Vocal Solo, Trembling] It’s thus the beginning Of the end of our world, Of all our babies, grans, Men, women, boys and girls. Serious series of eerie errors’ era Has begun—whatever beliefs you hold dearer. No one ever deserves To be killed like a dog, Their corpse hanging freely from a tree under God’s Eyes—as if His son, so despised, thus crucified; For they, like He, were all innocent when alive. Can’t be accused of being guilty when they’re dead, So hire Jee See need to ‘Knock slaughter on the head’ Immediately, as Morgues, overfed, Mean mountains of corpses pile high, easily bled. Is this to be the leg-ahh-see surrounding me? One of failing our brothers and sisters truly?

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