Oil, the fuel of our days, what makes our planes and cars blaze But what is it made from, you ask? It's not chemicals, but a task Of dead animals and plants, their corpses never got a chance To be eaten, so now we burn them, does this really make us dance?
The sad truth of it all? A single goat's remains are small It's only half a teaspoon of gas, the San Diego Zoo is not much more mass And yet we use these cadavers, burning them to feed our endeavors It's a tragedy, we use them up, so please, let's find another cup.