The youth sought to forge a utopia,
but suffered a kind of myopia.
They built a grand city,
but the people were shitty.
That's how you make a gleaming dystopia.
A couple went to Victoria Falls
to see its splendor with their own eyeballs,
but when they got near
they squinted and peered
but all they saw was a foggy, gray wall!
The kids struck out for the white sands of Cancun,
but to avoid throngs they went at high noon.
A crowd, there was not.
It was so freakin' hot
that each and every last one of them swooned.
There was a fine singer from Nashville
who couldn't ever get on a show bill.
Others sang of their trucks,
but he drove a Prius.
So, relating through song was a task, uphill.
There was a rich man from Houston
who sought a nice pad to roost in.
He soon found his lair,
and worked right downstairs.
And, thus, felt the ups and downs of Houston.
There was an old man from Indianapolis
who - about the big race - was passionless,
"it's far too many miles
goin' nowhere with style;
I wish I'd been born in Minneapolis!"
There was a chill burglar from Kenya
who, as he worked, listened to Enya.
It lulled him to sleep,
a sleep far too deep.
He woke up where burglars, they send ya.
There was a man from the Milky Way
who never knew quite what to say,
when asked, "Where ya from?"
he pointed with thumbs
up, down, right, left, and every which way
There was a gambler from the Andes
who was fond of upping the antes,
but he got in deep debt
and started to bet:
"beachfront property here in the Andes!"
There was an old lady from Kanyakumari
who one day tripped on the hem of her sari.
She fell into the sea,
but said, "Please leave me be.
I've long wished to know the world beyond Kanyakumari."