Vanity Fair has the good sense not to print the whole thing. (what would we have to look forward to?)
One thin September soon
A floating continent disappears
In midnight sun
But this is just enough. Leaves you wanting more, huh?
So long, big furry white bear
Glug, glug, glug
You always were too hard to kill
And not nearly tasty enough
I gave of myself
For unimaginable Riches and Power in return
Hey, Why is there a dead Pakistani on my couch?