The Gonzo Wolf

Of cucks

Of ducks

Of million bucks

The Sunday’s meant for peace and growth

In society’s scheduled monotony

It’s morning church for most

But to those who grow without a passion for servitude

Those who walk without minutes, hours, or days

We’re the children of circadian rhythm

Energies; ebb and flow

A squirrel offending birds upon a snowy feeder

A hungry avian gang returning force

The battle rages until the food fades

Then it’s off to the next bounty, if any

Greed resides in all things

Coins, blood, or breaths

feathers, fur, or filthy rich hairless apes

Top to bottom, the strongest prevail

Unless the bottom organize

Read that again.