Coming Unglued!

As the lights were going out in the Third Galaxy and the Supreme Hole with exquisite flatulency ascended his Throne of Excrement and barfed all over the Ground-Law of the United State of Arrogance, this song was heard in the alleyways and wafting from the roof tops of Poosah City:

Coming Unglued!

These reveries are all obscene, in spirit, deed and name!
They’re burning up our souls in darkly smoldering flames!
Monsters in the alley are driving us insane!
Why don’t we complain about the quality of our shame?

Are you feeling strangely helpless, is there nothing you can do?
The time is mad, the time is sad and everything is coming UNGLUED!

Ashes falling from the sky, a smell as thick as custard pie.
Behind the sheds of frozen hides, prophets whip their throbbing pride.
Down the road, they’re selling dope (fifty pounds of antelope!)
Frozen-fried beyond all hope they hang it from a rotten rope!

Are you feeling strangely helpless, is there nothing you can do?
The time is mad, the time is sad and everything is coming UNGLUED!

If you think I’m laughing, when you hear me cry,
If I tell the truth, you’ll think it’s just another lie!
The fools who rule our world will all kill you for a dime!
They’re sending us all to hell and they’re working overtime...

Are you feeling strangely helpless, is there nothing you can do?
The time is mad, the time is sad and everything is coming UNGLUED!

Truckloads full of heroes scratching in the dirt!
Shooting for the Moon, they suddenly lost their shirts!
Heavy clubs of gravity keep hitting where it hurts!
Giant ticks sit and suck until, finally, they burst!

If it’s true of me, it’s true of you -- is there nothing you can do?

The is generally assumed to have been composed by never-quite famous and mostly unknown poet of the Third Galaxy, Ichabod Rain.

It has of course no, well, almost no relevance to our own world where everything is going just fine and we can soon expect the Great Potato to arise, bringing His Only Begotten Spud, the Holy Idaho with him to french fry the baddies and rule in eternal Loving Kindness over all the good little spuds.