Mad Cow plays with our head His syntax is muddled and dead His mouth and his grin Like a stinking fish tin Floats like it’s full of lead.
Mad Cow had no Oedipal thing For Daddy was his money king Who propped up a loser son And bled the poor for fun. Guess where we put the nostril ring.	Mad Cow has a psychic fear Nothing to do with King Lear Cow rages at shadows, threats from thin air Blusters and bumbles with menacing hair The end of his world is coming near.
Small cows hear the Mad call Bring down the heavens, having a ball Put her in jail, demonize the brown Failing the test for a circus clown Break out the song sheet, build me a wall.	Mad Cow lives in adverbial bliss Laying superlatives over his piss Mine has the longest arc He says without any snark The target I never miss.