No Limit To Our Cravenness

I watched a sparrow go mad Right in front of me It charged a red bush like a bull to a matador To build a spring nest in November Head first through the air It smashed into the branches Shaking and breaking its tiny bones with fury Weaving the straw of this insanity Into something more familiar Beneath its wings and hoofs As the summer-like day cooked The record books They’re not telling the truth On Fox News or across the AM dial Or from the pulpit of Reddit and Energy They’re just making money money money money money Maintaining those ratings tithings and paychecks Audiences waving their white hankies Ole’ ole’ ole’!