I see your prompt, and raise you a poem that has nothing to do with it. Please enjoy:
When the end of days arrive,
By Macaulay Macaulay Culkin Culkin, will the chaos drive.
When magma springs from sacred rock,
To the bunkers the quackery shall flock.
Ding Ding Ding
And through the ‘sapien bare land and fog,
A man with a triangle has but a single job.
Though his sight was such a shock
He began t...