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I can’t make my stomach roll But my gut is bigger than my brain Hard to make, hard to tame That tells me where the problem lies And it has nothing to do with American fries It’s Asia and the shithole zones Filled with rubbish and American loans Chinese junks that heat the sea Beijing rubbish for you and me Garbage that sucks air from the source Sucking up oxygen as if by force Fouling our beaches, killing cranes Screwing America, fouling our lanes With Chinese and Russian shoes Small, petite and singing the blues Acting like sky, promising sun My gut tells me we’re under the gun The Chinese invented climate change Up there in their sneaky range Sending us rubbish, heated inside A mile deep and an ocean wide A thousand fires to spoil out fun A caravan of filth when they’re done Just like Mexicans, dirty and wet Changing the climate, take the bet But Mad Cow will stop the immigrant train Changing the climate, causing us pain A wall right in the South China Sea Will stop all their rubbish, their Chinese pee No more condoms on every wave No more junk from that Chinese cave Just clean water and just enough sun Clap your hands for now I’m done. |
| Mad Cow is a wind in the storm A gust of a mouth without form Climate doesn’t change or sing Don’t give me bits about birds on wing Or whether Artic ice is thin Something found in a rubbish bin Or whether the oceans’ boiling point Is worth stinking up the White House joint People breathe a lot of air Burn their rubbish, fluff their hair Beat their carpets, raise holy hell That doesn’t ring the climate bell Nor do outdoor cooking pits Burning meat and summer hits Rivers rise and rivers fall Should I raise the climate call And what about gravity’s role I can’t shimmy up that pole |