Tickle, Tickle Child

 Tickle, tickle, child

You’ll be all grown-up one day.

The world will be your oyster;

You’ll have many games to play.

But what you will inherit may not

All be as it seems

The planet, see, is dying,

From humanity’s extremes.

You see, my child, our brains have gotten 

Us in such a bind.

We think that we’re immortal—we think thar

Everything is fine.

But every day we’re dying 

And we do not have a clue.

The environment is changing

And we don’t know what to do.

So tickle, tickle, child, one day 

You’ll inherit this.

And good luck with the mending

As the ending goes to piss.