They say survive till Twenty-Twenty-Five,All I see is still some pretty penny fight.Everybody is screaming "they terk er jerbs!"Every party is scheming - they're token nobs.
Major shareholders make your shit falter.Minor sweat shoppers minus sweet suppers.What the fuck is going on?That's the mud we choking on?
We did not see the technologicNeed this Nazi Tech Bro logic?Wow, Orange Man crazy?Why aren't you mad lately?
Their shit mouths speak loud,Those sick snouts preach foul.Fucking brat rat faking bright Mighty Mouse,Funding fat bat making White haunted House.
Fools set rules for clowns with crowns,Tools let loose for ground and pound.Fake fame, make claims, all gain no blame.Snake game, take names, all pain no shame.
It's Evil, with the know how, they got it no doubt.Its ill will, slithers below now, we gotta roll out."I thought we had advanced in entirety"A thought we had enhanced in anxiety.
Why some sent away whining and dyingWhile scums spend days wining and dining?Old World Police, unfold, New World Bullies,Whole world peace on hold, knew who pulled this?
For no more mystery if we know more history,For sure more misery if they stole more victory.Get that drink out and be who drunk on sobriety,Let that sink in and see those punks in society,
Stop the "conquer and divide",Drop the ponder and decide.We pay this price for the errors of tyrants.Make way, it's time for the eras of defiants.
AI had been bitching for a while now,And I'd been itching for a wild "how".Summon that Artificial Intelligence?Somewhat Art is officially unintelligent.
Art thou ready for Art Foul already?What art is this? It's what artists diss.Enable Stable Diffusion? A labelled staple delusion?You come on! Sense! Sicko! Sick of the commonsensical?Use commonsense! - Slick old trick of the calm and sensical.
Oh you say you don't want anything hardcore?A Midjourney has met your needs and nothing more?Admit your needs hast let y'all cheat./Imagine: a pungent aroma punishing a whole Rome of artists./Imagine: a bludgeoned coma unleashing a-hole trauma of tardists.
What? So, the fuck is this? An AI art?What soul? The yuck of this! And hate, I start.Shiet, much a rip-off, baffles the feeble, makes a pond of lies.Yet, such a ripple, rattles the people, makes us ponder lives,
End'em, or you pay, what thief is all wanna-be roleplay?And then, so you say, what if it's all gonna be okay?I was all riled up but now suddenly I hesitate in that thesis,Ire all piled up and it had made me defecate enough faeces.
I ask, do eyes, um, stand it? Rarely?Alas, do I understand it? Really?I ain't quasimodo here so I can't predict this.I can't quite see over fear so I can't depict this.
May this AI be not what true lies I dread.Made this, as I see not what truth lies ahead.
So, lately the nights have been insanely longOh, baby, the fights I've been in, plainly wrong.Sleep depriving myself, I stay up all night singing songs.Sheep arriving by now, I say I'll be alright hearing gongs.
My mind farts like my behind sharts.Spitting nonsense in sharp fine parts.I ain't a method actor, pretending what I'm not,My anus utters a matter presenting what I'd rot.
Oh, ain't that "ri-di-culous"?Or instead read it "coolest"I ain't all shy about it,I plain old Shia LaBeoufed it.
For art and farts are both the same,Better out than in, I stake my claim.Hold either back and you'll only bloat,So I let it rip and write what I wrote.