Battlestations

down here,

in the ice cold deep,

we play a game which is supposed

to be deadly serious, but which nobody

takes too seriously,

otherwise, it could be deadly,

so we compromise, and try to

sleep it off, but some still insist

on playing the game,

so we play, and most of the time

we lose, not that we really lose,

otherwise, we’d all be lost,

and then there would be nobody

to play the game,

and the game has to be played,

otherwise, it wouldn’t be a game,

it would be real, and politicians would panic,

and press little red buttons,

out of fear of losing something which

only they have to fear losing,

because everyone else has nothing

to lose;

oh alright!

I’ll wakeup, yes,

I’ll play the game today,

just hold on to your poopiesuit,

but I won’t play much longer,

so use me while you can,

because soon, I’ll be using you

to play the game for me,

so I can sleep at night,

and not dream about little

red buttons;

will somebody please cut out

that annoying, snickering alarm!

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