Grass has no roots, these days, ‘cause ‘climate change’
We only have the plastic, fake sort now,
Nicely edged and neat, no need to mow.
Ironically it’s made from fossil fuel,
It’s ‘green’ in that it could not feed a cow,
Yet flourishes in clouds of fresh, hot air,
You know it’s ‘real’, you see it everywhere
And hear it whispering its lies,
Tellin’ the sheep what aint so.
Grass has no roots these days,
It carpets floors in power’s corridors
But there are those
So taken in by this fake green, that they protest,
Convinced, they are themselves sincere,
They push rebelliously at open doors,
And tell the state to act on what it knows,
And what it knows is astroturf,
Fertilised with bullshit, with the power to distort,
The deep fake movement that it grows
In order to convince itself it has support
For decisions it has made, which cost us dear.