I wish that all those Mayan guys
Had been a lot less cryptic
So I could make precise-er plans
For times apocalyptic
Their P.D.A.s were made of stone
And should have had the power
To tell me more than just the year
Likewise, the day and hour
Considering the many things
The Mayan prophet teaches
I'd like to know to what extent
This cataclysm reaches
But nowadays I tend to doubt
Such certainty exists
For prophesies (like health care bills)
Are shrouded in the mists
So here's what I propose to do
Despite what they predict
And when you hear it you'll agree
I've got the future licked
I'll summer in Nebraska
Where I know the weather's great
And then I'll spend my winters
In the southern Sunshine State
And when I need a respite I'll
Abandon my cabana
And take a cruise to the bayous
Of sweet Louisiana
And though I'm not real talented
Or even very skilled
I'll join a labor union or
Perhaps the Writers' Guild
Although I haven't read the bill
According to the scholars
If I do this, the Democrats
Owe me...a BILLION DOLLARS
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