Fahrenheit Four Fifty Woke

We bear the burn within the West;
The woke jihad, the flamin' fleet,
Incinerates God's natural law
To bring us Hell's en-gendered heat.

On pronoun sand, the morons fool
With God; they fool zirselves alone;
They have no rock to write upon,
Their hormone tablets not of stone.

There is no pleasure in the West
From burning books or treatises;
O Come, Qohelet, Sage, so we
Won't chop off boys' penises.