The Buddhists on bicycles set out,
With eyes of glass and robes of fire,
Past gleaming skyscrapers and leaning shanty towns;
They travel to the sea to wash their hands.
In the greatest country in the world,
A wall is built by red-neck lorry drivers.
Cactuses stand guard in the north,
Whilst drive-ins crowd the northern border.
People of many colours will pray,
As their cardboard box towers burn
Under the ever-watchful eye of
The God of all Gods- money.
And in the north,
And in the south,
The ice is melting.
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