It’s surely time for a nonsense sonnet
As nothing makes sense around me at all
Advancement comes from friendship, not merit
You lick arse every day, or else you fall
What’s the point of brains, we’re in the jungle
Scratching backs, picking fleas from off the boss
It’s time then to go ape, since we’ve bungled
Our chance to be better; admit it’s lost
And truth is banished; has been from the first
In normal society which is kept
In place by fear and sheer strength, by big balls
And tits, mesmerising the small. We’re tossed
Aside, trod on, a path for them to spit
As they cruise along, not bothered at all
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