Oh coke machine
I need a drop of blood
From your wretched workings
Burnt from wretched mud
From some wretched mud
You sucked up precious water
You made my drop of blood
And some toxic slaughter
You dumped the toxic waste
On crops that needed water
You said it would do them good
It just made some more slaughter
Somewhere to the west of there
The Paracos did fly
Looking out for Unnies
That they wanted to die
With your drop of blood
You pointed them in the direction to
They had a little massacre
I’m sure they thanked you
So there you go coke machine
Now I want my blood
Since you own nearly everything
The next best thing is mud.
(If this hasn’t made any sense (which is likely) please study Coca-Cola controversies and it will eventually.)