Aaaahhh!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!!!!!
The market is falling! The market is falling!
He’s jittery (of course he: only a he would so kill)
and he can’t quite keep his invisible hand quite still—
does it shake ‘cause he’s a speed pill-poppin’ fiend
or ‘cause, guiltily self-indulgent, his pants he has creamed?
He’s spooked, the kook, by his own reflection,
as he gets depressed by the thought of depression.
So, I’ll make a confession: I never liked him anyways,
what with his materialist craze and greed-glazed gaze,
not to mention his brazen pillage, setting the world ablaze.
So let him shrink, contract, take a downturn, and crash,
and maybe we won’t all die from affluenza,
the curse of too much cash.
