Mad Cow ushers in God
Whenever he wants a good nod
The herd moves its lips
To violent field quips
Never spare the rod.
Mad Cow ramps up his shrill
Words don’t hurt and can’t kill
Verbs don’t wave a gun
In the absence of fun
You stand completely still.
Mad Cow poisons the crowd
By moving his mouth out loud
He spits triggers and knives
How he loves wives
Men become bent and bowed.
Mad Cow sees ants on the run
He immediately orders a gun
Shoot all these buggers
Losers and muggers
Let’s have a little fun.
Mad Cow’s the last man on earth
And he thinks about his net worth
All the losers who lost
And their staggering cost
He plumps and fingers his girth.