Contributed by Robert Lyons
I heard that a new cold front approaches
A killer flow of social inevitability
I heard the crushing blow as the bull buried its horn
Lose we all must to weather the storm
Shelfs lay forlorn, the herd stampede
Selfish to believe that you can see
When a thief in the night intends to conceive
A plan to make short work of we
But barren markets because of greed?
Empty stores from stupidity?
Shame on the people of this great country
So in need of unity, so lean in close
And hear these last words
Wash your hands, all is well
Is that true? Might as well be
Nobody can tell because the blizzard blows
Think about this
I heard the mushers were worried about the snow
