Another time and, another moment
Queues go long, for pressing thumbs and cards
Propagandas turn jumbo jets in clouds,
Whence it seems convincing, all pigs have horns.
The Devil and Demons change into saints
Even speechless begin to shout and sing
“When she grows bumps I will be there for her
And tomorrow; no matter the weather.
Like milk, I’ll do nothing to spoil them
Like eggs, I’ll hold them with extreme care
Our mother’s sky, would have pies”; they snore
Sadly, am allergic to snoring pigs.