life is full with self-interest, mutants are going round and round
the muddy flood is all over, move to higher ground
don't let the conscious be diluted and frowned
the culprits are mutants, and live like hounds
their sense is covered with ice as cold as Arctic dice
the real world is conflicted, and does not know how to get around
paths are carved by economic snout
self-interest wins, nothing else count
an everlasting human mind lives in drought
plays games to live, and to make themselves count
a laughing matter until the passing come around
culprits sink, and peace nowhere to be found
until evolution transforms, the stinky molds will rule the ground
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