Surf the great wave,
from atop a coral cave,
while throwing down the glaive,
for there’s Humanity to save,
and all the free and knave,
deserve to rant and rave,
about the fluids they gave,
to the insane and the brave.

And they wish they could’ve known,
before their fates were sown,
that gold-thread and bone,
and all the God-like tone,
had writ upon the cone,
that fate could not be postpone,
but instead they went alone,
and got lost there on their own.

Rarely did they sit,
while wand’ring in fit,
as the Earth’s great golden tit,
nourished them with wit,
they took for granted it,
and wound up forced to quit,
and to defeat admit.

There they settled down,
each wearing their frown,
for each was made a clown,
and lost all their renown–
and even each their noun–
to end up quite uptown,
for the ever-sparkling crown,
had turned them all aroun’.

Even at their best,
each was forced to rest,
having never passed the test,
of life’s unending quest,
for food and cumly breast,
such matters not in jest,
however doth protest,
find peace in their arrest.