Text of the Poem
Pentagon code For end of world Is rural paradise, If plan fails It’s rural paradise 5 For losses under 100 million, a trip on the wayward bus For a future of mutants, bridal parties collide 10 World famine is a plague of beatniks First strike and I sniff your nieces I fall to pieces 15 Get hell out . . . A madman comes, one of those babies the further you kick it the bigger it gets. 20