Concerto for a Hazy Day

Roll out
Those lazy, hazy, crazy
Days of Summer
Those days of
Bombings
and
Funeral
Biers
Roll out
Those crazy, hazy, lazy
Days of Summer
Our media pundits
Have nothing
To fear--
Except the rants
of Ann and Michelle
Who call for
Journalists to go to Hell
and Michael Savage
and Neil Cavuto
Bill O'Reilly
and fucking Bluto
All the wackos
All the nuts
All those wingers
Without a putz
All the women
All the men
All the cubs
Without a den
Left to die
By knowing mothers
Brought to life
By nutjob others
Wraiths without a home
Or haven
Souls picked clean
By crow and raven
Corpses moved by hell's command
Without rest on sea or land
Yet they move
and speak
and write
Hell-bred pundits?
That can't be right!
Nonetheless their drooling prose
Sends its scent to right-wing nose
Giving them the will to lie
Why
Do we
Put up with this shit?