Incubated in the outback of China
Pecked and scratched from an earth
Who once held this secret
Firm below her surface,
Now lain bare to a festering a wound
In the muck of chicken farms
Dug out of the wilderness
To feed a billion people.
Bird flu is coming…
It slept for a million years
Beneath the cold ground
Blasted away by some volcanic event
Somewhere in this great galactic soup,
For eons catapulting through space unimpeded
Until slowly entranced by Earth's ethereal shield,
He entered her body ignited in passion
And while his molten form vaporized upon impact,
He planted his demon seed
Within her fertile womb
Bird flu is coming…
Not tempered by the march of evolution,
Nor the rigors of natural selection,
A wild child of the universe
Unleashed through Man's proliferation
Infecting this sea of life
Upon his arrival
In the gullets of chickens
From the mouths of bulldozers
Bird flu is coming…
A plague of pandemic proportions
Perpetrated by a chain of beasts eating beasts
It found a home in poultry
And now in migratory birds
Mutating and adapting to master each new species
Stepping up the biological ladder
It has crossed species through contact
And phyla through ingestion
The bird flu is coming…
Pharmaceutical manna from heaven
Opportunities for ineffectual treatments
And bogus silver bullets
Priced for profits of 3,000% and more!
Gas masks and survival supplies
Padded budgets for EMS training
And a new low price on chicken…
As H5N1 rips through The American West
Like wildfire
Clogging our homes, hospitals and highways
With the putrefying flesh of those left in his wake
And the virus will discover new vistas along the way,
Within the bellies of wild dogs and cats
And all the vermin that scavenge on carrion
The bird flu is coming…
The irony is Absurdism par excellence!
Too sick to gamble away our futures in the financial markets
Too sick to amass personal fortunes
To sick to enslave each other,
Too sick to torture any more animals
Too sick to rape and poison the planet again --
Too sick to make to Armageddon…
We died, with boils on our bodies
Blood and bile spilling from our orifices,
Groaning as our brains turned to liquid,
Our fingers to mush
Unable to run the machines
The world just went silent…
Except for the sound of the wind
And the relentless chatter of birds
