The Survival Of The Weakest!
The greens of land,
Four seasoned and broad,
Cows silently graze,
Not looking at the bulls,
Injected to get thrilled,
But they say these cows can produce,
Two liters of water and fatty solute,
Hearing of the printing machine,
Creating of wealth of two dollars per head,
If kept in the stores to rest,
The termites may eat and excrete.
What a great places these are!
The towns are carpeted with black hair,
Oceans of emotions, many loan sharks lurk,
They have the cows, gazing at the bulls,
Skeletal and skinny in structure,
the teats at the fat less udders,
What a magic it is! what a magic it is!
These cows can produce five liters,
Those cows can produce seven liters,
Loaded containers arrive with dollars,
Of fishing hooks to suck out the blood,
The cows of the government bonds,
Let them mature and let our kids malnourished.
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