Strikethrough

The NSA spies on the UK

On the whole we haven’t got much to say

The CIA goes surfing

Then bombs a shrinking Earth

MI6 is full of pricks

Intelligence analysis

The mayor’s got foot in mouth disease

God save us mad cows

The KGB has a glowing record

And a Ninja President Cyborg

Or Prime Minister, everything’s Premier

In Glorious Mother Russia

The Chinese [REDACTED]

[REDACTED WESTERN LIES]

The poet, with no history of drug abuse or mental health [WELL NOW]

Was found decapitated with multiple gunshot wounds

The police are ruling

Suicide

Meatsuits

Get into my headspace

Delve deep into my braincase

An Escher layered forward base the TARDIS of the human race

Do Death Star runs down Root Canals

Dodge the flirtatious tongue and

I’ve had some out in terms of teeth

There’s less than thirty guns

Am I the man behind the curtain?

Or have I passed the Turing Test

The answer lies in the beating heart

That sits within my chest

Under that’s the stomach

The liver is completely fucked

So really I entreat thee

Wish me the best of luck

Feet have many futures. Foxtrot or forward march

The crushing heels of dictators, the stance of Rosa Parks

An Adam Smith proponent, a missionary of Marx

Whatever you do, own it

You already look the part