Tech Bros' Mansions

A song clean-cut American teens will be singing around campfires for decades to come!

This is what happens when you go to Malta on holiday this past January and start free-associating. Don’t let this happen to you!

The bluetooth queen sips flat champagne from Judgment’s leaky chalice
The king tries to AirBNB his crumbling winter palace
The phallus in the village square defiantly stays flaccid
As acid drips from poets’ tongues and pixels swell with malice

The tech bros’ mansions have burned down
How thick and black the smoke!
The public blames diversity
We still don’t get the joke

The maintenance of mama’s hut left much to be desired
Deep within the building’s bowels the billionaires conspired
Their gags were not amusing. No gag order was forthcoming
It turned out though that in midflight the pilot had retired

Applause that shakes the temple’s walls won’t satisfy his greed
He’s feeling insecure again. The rank and file must bleed
“May I please recast my vote?” the red-capped morons wonder
while their minions loudly praise the tech bro’s latest blunder

[Unused, and unloved:]

Our lakes run red with stunt men’s blood. Mark Zuckerberg’s a quisling
The queen has fled. Our dream is dead. It’s always cold and drizzling
Apartheid fanboys kiss the feet of our autistic master
We expected stress, it’s true, but not full-scale disaster

Drag Queen Story Hour!