Every day a billionaire wakes
And sits and twiddles his thumbs
Thinking up more ways to basically say
“Come, buy my bags full of crumbs”
“Come feed the little birds, show them you care
And you’ll be glad if you do
I’ll give you free reign, I’ve got free speech to spare
You can be gullible too”
“Feed the trolls, twitter like mad
Twitter, twitter, twitter like mad”
Everyone’s ownd and everyone lies
While overhead, the tweets fill the skies
All round social meeja, the saints and apostles
Look up as he sells his wares
He even quotes poetry, and he doth knowittry
Whitman or Martin – who cares?
The pointy birds, pointy pointy
Anoint my head, anointy nointy
Though your words are simple and few
“Listen, listen”, he’s calling to you
Anointy nointy
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