The Effort of Less

Human or otherwise, the work gets done.

Abrupt endings don't get you very far When the crowd is chanting for blood There must be a momentary breeze, a respite while the reaper catches its breath The honeyed masses yearn to be caught defenseless By truncheon, nay, boot on neck Only wishing that they could turn their gaze up at the offender In that moment of strife No mention of the evolutionary snack-bar Not a whisper about how many eons it took for them to be at the mercy of lesser men The work gets done, honestly, whether we like it or not Entropy is shagging your mother senseless In the back seat of a Kia Sorento (or maybe it was a Jeep Grand Cherokee?) And the fetus stands up afterwards to smoke a cigarette Don't act surprised Don't even wash your hands before going back to work That would be the effort of less