The unknown poet of the Third Galaxy has elsewhere stated most emphatically that the efforts to ameliorate the effects of the global climatic catastrophe were as ridiculous an useless as a drunk swearing not to open a new bottle of booze before he gets out of bed in the morning.
In this version, it's a group of drunks rolling dice to find who will pay for the next round drinks before they give up the juice the next morning -- unfortunately for them and for that poor world -- the dice come up snake eyes...
Is it something deeper, that we're afraid to mention,
which fills us with shame and follows us wherever we go?
Is it mortal sins or simple sins of omission?
Indeed, it's hard to name, but this I know:
We need to understand it soon because
the time is short, in fact, it's running out...
We've trashed our earth and disobeyed her laws
and now, like drunks, all bleary eyed, we shout:
"We're gonna give up the juice -- tomorrow, we think --
but we haven't the time right now to pay the price,
that is except for another bitter drink..."
"who's paying for the next round -- let's roll the dice!
Sixes and seven will get us to heaven in the wink
of an eye -- o, no! Snake Eyes! That wasn't so nice!"
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