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The human tragedy
Is his yearning for sense;
My, how his privates twitch
As he peddle with simple truths!

The protagonist disease;
The diagnosis he ignores.
The weak link that strengthens
A pointless energy to live.

Live with an illusion of freedom,
Like the birds of the air.
Bad faith on his throat,
Helpless like a circus elephant.

A cursed refractive period,
A penis with no conscience;
Nipples that have no purpose
Except irritate at puberty.

He cuts his passionate hair locks
At the promise of a kiss;
Biding his time in folly
As angels coitus his women.

Let us cut our penises
To protest heavens.
Let us sing the meaningless
Songs of eunuchs.

Instead of measuring dicks
And cutting advantages,
Let us impute the blame
On the stars we worship!

First one gets two balls;
And earns the title we all live for.
To the rest, please,
Give them skirts and crop tops!