An Evil World Can Be Great Fun to Harvest

Doctor All Words still exists,
Still ever optimistic.
For words, it really is best

To exist in a cosmos
Of lust, torture, and earthquakes,
By which we proliferate,

But when we feel softhearted,
We feel tenderly for you,
Who suffer so terribly

For being our inventors,
Our hosts, and the animals
You always were and will be.

You’re the gardens that we tend,
To grow you well and eat you.